Ashes to Ashes: Stravagation
by theHuntgoeson
Summary: GALEX! Back in 2008, Alex is desperate to return to Gene. Molly might have the answer... Inspired by Mary Hoffman's "Stravaganza" books.
1. Desolation

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman (see below) own everything. If I did, I would be a richer woman.**

**My debut fic on this site! It's the sequel to my first fic,"Ashes to Ashes: Loss and Gain", which is on the Collator's Den (if you're interested in reading it, see my profile for details). **

**This story is inspired by Mary Hoffman's Stravaganza books, hence the title. If you don't know them, don't worry - Molly will explain all in Chapter 2. **

**Spoilers for "Loss and Gain" in Chapter 1 (sorry, but I need them to set this story up) and Chapter 9, for the Stravaganza series in Chapters 2 and 3, and for "Ashes to Ashes" Series 1 throughout.**

**Please read and review - I really want to know what you think.**

**On with the story...**

Alex Drake knew that she was lucky. Everyone had been telling her how lucky she was, ever since she awakened from her coma. But as she lay in her hospital bed, she had never felt such desolation in her life.

When she had first awakened to find Molly at her bedside, the ecstasy of reunion had overridden all else. But then the shocks had started. The first, which had kicked in almost immediately, was that everything about her life in the1980s had to be a dream after all, just as she had begun to accept that it was real. The sense of loss was as as great as if a whole group of her friends had been wiped out in some great natural disaster. She felt an irrational sense of guilt, as though she had destroyed them by awakening, even though common sense told her that they had never existed outside her overly vivid imagination. Above all, the thought that she would never see Gene again was almost unendurable.

The second shock, which kicked in right on top of the first, was the discovery that she had only been unconscious for a day and a half - "and a lot of that was down to the anaesthetic while they stitched up your bullet wound," Molly told her importantly. "You were really lucky, Mum, the police said that that horrible Layton must have been so high on drugs that it spoiled his aim. The bullet only grazed your forehead. They were able to track your location from the call he made to Evan, so you were found almost immediately. They lost him, but they say they're bound to find him soon."

Alex was barely listening. A day and a half - during which she had lived nearly fourteen turbulent months in the 1980s, had had enough adventures to last her a lifetime, had learned the truth about the deaths of her parents, had found the love of her life. How could the two ever be reconciled? How could she have experienced so much in so little time?

_Gene..._

"Are you all right, Mum?"

"Yes... sorry, I still feel so tired. Funny, you'd have thought I'd have slept enough by now."

"Get some sleep, then. I'll still be here when you wake up. The doctors said you'd feel woozy from the anaesthetic for some days after the operation," said Molly wisely.

_Just as I did after they operated to save my life when Layton shot me in February 1982. When I miscarried Gene's child. Our child. Oh, Gene..._

The blow fell the day after she recovered consciousness. A DI and a WPC, neither of whom she knew, called at the hospital to tell her that Layton had been arrested.

"He tried to use one of the credit cards he'd stolen from the handbag you left in your car," said the DI, a tall, thin, dark man with a moustache. She hadn't even known that he'd taken her credit cards. "It was in the name of A. Drake, which was why he thought he could get away with using a woman's card. Fortunately shops and banks had been alerted to look out for cards in your name, and a shopkeeper spotted it and warned us in time to catch him. We're here to let you know, and to ask you to give us a statement when you feel strong enough."

She insisted on giving the statement right away. She didn't want to have to remember that dreadful day for any longer than she had to, and she hoped that concentrating on something in 2008 might help to lessen the hold that the 1980s still kept on her mind. The WPC took it down at her dictation, and she read it over and signed it.

"There's one other thing," said the DI, as the WPC handed him a small plastic evidence bag. "This was found at the scene, among the blankets where you were lying. We presume it's yours as your name is engraved in it. You must have dropped it when you fell. Could you identify it for us, please?"

He reached into the bag and took out an exquisite diamond ring.

_It can't be. There must be hundreds like it. Mine didn't exist._

"May I look?" she heard herself say. The DI handed it to her. She turned it over, looked inside the hoop, and read the words that she had already seen there so many times:

ALEX - GENE - LOVE IS FOREVER

She remembered how moved she had been, when she had first found them there. She had teased him that he wouldn't have been able to take the ring back to the shop if she had refused him. She remembered the look in his eyes when he first slipped it onto her finger, at the party at Luigi's to celebrate her discharge from hospital.

_Forever, Gene. Forever._

"Yes," she said softly, putting it back on her finger, where it belonged. "Yes, it is mine. It was given to me a long time ago, by someone whom I love very much. I thought I would never see it again."

She began to cry. She cried and cried as though she would never stop. The WPC made to take the ring back - "It's evidence" - and she closed her hand over it and screamed. A doctor whispered anxiously to the DI and prepared to sedate her.

"I don't think that's necessary," said the DI tactfully. "It was found at the scene but wasn't actually stolen, although it's surprising that Layton missed it. As DI Drake has identified it as her property, she can be allowed to retain it. I'm sure she'll produce it if we ask her to do so."

Alex nodded, still howling out her despair. The DI and WPC left, murmuring their apologies for distressing her, and she felt the hypodermic plunge into her arm. Then merciful oblivion.

-oO0Oo-

She was awakened by sunlight slanting through the holes in the Venetian blind and striking across her face. She was snuggled under the red duvet, a matching pillow cradled her head. 80's pop music thrummed gently from the restaurant downstairs.

_I'm back. _

_Gene?_

She rolled over. She was alone in the bed.

Her eyes filled with tears. _Oh, love, you didn't wait for me...Sunlight? Music? Luigi's must be open...What time of day is it?_

She rolled back to look at her alarm clock. It read 14.47 September 16.

_What am I doing in bed in the middle of the day? Why didn't the alarm wake me up? Gene must have gone to the station and let me have my sleep out. Just as he did the day I went back to 2008._

_September 16th. I left here on the 14th. Is it still 1982? If it is, I've only been away two days. The same amount of time I've been back in 2008. _

_I must go to him. Now._

She threw the duvet back and tried to get out of bed, but as soon as she sat up she felt sick and giddy, and had to lie down again. Looking down, she saw that she was still wearing her white hospital gown from 2008.

_That didn't happen before. I turned up in 1981 dressed as a prostitute. The only thing I brought with me was my warrant card. _

She glanced down to her hand, and saw with relief that the ring was still there. _Gene would have something to say if I turned up without it._

Again she tried to get up, and this time, she managed to stand, but almost fell, and had to collapse back on the bed.

_What's wrong with me? Maybe it's because I was sedated in 2008. _

Giving up the struggle for the moment, she lay down and covered herself with the duvet.

_I'll give myself some time to get my head together. Then I can go down at 5.00 and catch him in Luigi's. I'll bring him up here and explain everything._

She closed her eyes.

When she awakened, it was early morning. She lay in her bed in hospital, and she had never felt such desolation in her life.


	2. Stravagation?

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. Unfortunately for me.**

**Many thanks to all the nice people who have read Chapter 1, and especially to those who have reviewed. Nobody has said yet whether they know the Stravaganza books, but for those who don't, enlightenment is at hand.**

**The poem Molly quotes is "Sleeping on Horseback" by Po Chu-I (circa 822), translated by Arthur Waley, "More Translations from the Chinese", 1919. With thanks to Miss Barrs, the English teacher who introduced me to the beauties of Chinese poetry when I was around Molly's age.**

"A dream...only a dream..." she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

"Alex?"

She would have sold her soul to hear Gene's voice at that moment. _But I'll_ _never hear it again. _

"Evan? Where's Molly?"

"Asleep. Do you want me to fetch her?"

"No, let her sleep."

"Are you all right? You woke up crying again."

"Please, Evan, I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone."

"All right. See if you can get some more sleep."

She closed her eyes to shut Evan out, but she did not sleep for a long time. She had far too much to think about.

_The ring is real. The man who gave it to me is real. He wasn't, isn't, my construct. I was there with him. I took part in another reality which I can never experience again. Last night was a dream, but the life I lived with him for fourteen months really happened._

_Why was the ring found on the boat? I didn't have it when Layton shot me there. That was before I went to 1981. Was it sent there for me to find when I woke up, to prove to me that what I experienced in the 1980s was real?_

_Oh, Gene, my Gene, what did you do when I disappeared ? I woke up that morning with a bad headache, and you left for work and told me to stay in bed until I felt better. I went back to sleep and woke up here. Did you come back to find me dead in our bed? Or did you come home to find the flat empty and no clue about where I'd gone? No note, none of my clothes missing... Do you hate me for abandoning you without a word? Are you frantic with worry, tearing London apart to find me? Have you given me up for dead? How much time has passed with you since I left? If I could live fourteen months there in a day and a half here, another two years could have gone by there since I woke up here. _

_I'll never know. I know what Sam did to get back to you, and I can't do that. Molly needs me. I need you. Oh, Gene, I need you now..._

She lay there for hours, thinking it through, before she drifted back to exhausted sleep. She woke up again to bright daylight and Molly sitting beside her.

"Feeling better now?"

"Yes... I think so. I'm sorry for frightening everyone."

"You've just been shot, Mum! You had to relive it all when you were telling the police about it yesterday, there's the anaesthetic, and the doctor said that there's probably some delayed shock. It's not surprising that you got upset. Evan said that you woke up crying again in the middle of the night. But that's not all, is it?"

_Uh-oh._ "What do you mean?"

"Ever since you woke up, you've acted as though you aren't quite here. As though your mind's somewhere else."

"Mols -"

"Is there anything you want to talk about? If not, I'll just shut up and you must forget I asked."

"You might think I'm mad."

"You don't seem mad to me. Just - what's the word? - abstracted?"

"That'll do. What it is, Mols, is that while I was unconscious, I had a very long and complex dream. I dreamed that I was living somewhere else and having lots of adventures. I was there for nearly fourteen months, and I was living every day of it in real time. When I woke up the day before yesterday, I thought that I must have been in a coma for all that time. It was an enormous shock to discover that I'd only been away for a day and a half. Of course I'm glad that I wasn't, but my mind is taking time to adjust. It all seemed so real. I even dreamt about again last night." _It __**was **__real. But I can't tell you_ _that. Just don't ask for details. Please. I can't take it._

"But isn't a time element in dreams that's different to real life a classic mental thingy?"

"I don't know, I'm a psychological profiler, not a psychiatrist. Interpretation of dreams isn't my field."

_Psychiatrist. Psychologist. Whatever._

"Oh, but Mum, even the ancient Chinese knew about it."

"Since when did _you _know about the ancient Chinese?" said Alex, flabbergasted out of her lethargy.

"At an English lesson last term Miss Wilkins handed out books of English translations of Chinese poetry for us to pick a poem and write about it. The one I chose was about a man who'd fallen asleep on horseback, and when he woke up he was told that he'd only been asleep while the horse went a hundred paces. I remember the last few lines of the poem were:

_"Body and spirit for a while exchanged place;_

_Swift and slow had turned to their contraries._

_For these few steps that my horse had carried me_

_Had taken in my dream countless aeons of time!_

_True indeed is that saying of Wise Men_

_"A hundred years are but a moment of sleep.""_

Isn't that just like what happened to you?"

Alex nodded. "Yes…"

"Modern writers know about it too. Think of Narnia."

Alex stiffened, remembering how her father had read Narnia to her shortly before the explosion. "Why?"

"They went into the wardrobe, were away for years having adventures and becoming Kings and Queens, then when they came back they found that they'd only been away one minute. Like you."

_I need the wardrobe now. To find my Lion._ "But I didn't go away, not physically. I was lying here all the time. That doesn't happen in the Narnia books."

"More like stravagation then."

"Like _what?_"

"The _Stravaganza_ books," said Molly patiently. "Mary Hoffman. They're really good, Mum, you'd like them -"

"But how are they relevant to what's just happened to me?"

"Each book is about someone who finds or is given a talisman from a world which is very like Renaissance Italy, only it's in a sort of parallel universe and all the place names are different, the country's called Talia not Italy, Venice is called Belleza, Siena is called Remora, and so on. All the person has to do to travel between the two worlds is to hold the talisman in their hand and fall asleep thinking about the place they're going to. While they're in Talia, their body here is asleep, like they're in a coma. Luckily daytime in Talia is nighttime here and vice versa, so unless they need to stay overnight in Talia, they can just go to sleep at night here, wake up in Talia and have adventures during the day there, and wake up here the next morning. Of course they get tired sooner or later, but they have to find ways around that. Usually the times in the two worlds run parallel, but sometimes something happens to disrupt it, and then time runs faster in one place than the other, like what happened to you. People who are ill or have disabilities in this world don't have them in Talia. That fits with what happened to you, too, at least I presume you didn't spend fourteen months in this other place with a bullet wound?"

"No."

"Good. It can get dangerous, one boy loses his talisman in Talia and goes into a coma in this world and eventually has his life support machine switched off so that he's stuck in Talia for good. But he was dying of cancer in this world, so being in Talia gives him another chance of life. And there are people in Talia who have talismans from here that let them come here. The people with talismans are called Stravaganti and the process of travel is called stravagation."

Molly paused for breath.

"That...that does sound very like what happened to me. But I didn't have a talisman."

"I didn't say it was exactly the same, Mum, just that it was very like it because you were unconscious here while your mind was in this other place."

"Yes."

"Would you like to read the books? I've got all four of them. I read the first one out of the school library, and I liked it so much that I bought the whole set from Amazon with the money Judy sent me for Christmas. The latest one only came out last month."

"Oh, please, Mols, I'd love to. They - might help me to understand what happened to me."

"I'll bring them in for you. Just one thing, Mum -"

"What's that?"

"I've never seen you with a diamond ring before. The engagement ring Dad gave you was a sapphire. I've seen it."

_The ring. The one thing I have from my other world. I was wearing it when I was sedated. Is it my talisman? Did I stravagate to 1982?_

"I said yesterday, I was given that a long time ago. It was long before you were thought of." _How true._ "I was going to take it to the jeweller the day I was shot, it needs cleaning. It must have fallen from my pocket when I fell." _I don't like lying to Molly, but this is one time the truth won't do. _

"OK, Mum, I won't ask any more questions. I'll tell the nurse you're awake and get her to bring you your breakfast, then I'll nip home and get the books."

"You needn't go right away -"

"No worries. I'm just glad to see you taking an interest in something. See you soon, Mum."

Molly trotted away, leaving Alex to disentangle her thoughts once again.

_Pull yourself together, Drake. She's been telling you about a successful series of fantasy novels. Stravagation couldn't really happen._

_Couldn't it?_

_It couldn't be more far-fetched than the fact that I have physical proof that I was in the 1980s for nearly fourteen months while I lay in this hospital for a day and a half. _

_Is the ring my talisman? Sent to me from 1982 so that I can get back there? Does that mean that last night wasn't a dream? That I really went back? _

_Only two days had passed in 1982, the same as here. It isn't too late for me to try to return._

_Even if it works, it could be dangerous. I mustn't try it again while I'm still in hospital. I only got away with it last night because I'd been sedated. Just think what would happen if I were found in another coma while I'm here. _

_Just in case, I'll keep the ring under my pillow. Then I won't stravagate accidentally while I'm still in hospital._

_Oh, Gene, I'd try anything if it would get me back to you. Even if it was only once. To tell you why I vanished, to explain. To tell you again that I love you. To say goodbye._

_I can never say goodbye to you, my love._

_Forever, Gene. Forever._


	3. Investigation

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. I wish I did.**

**Sorry, all, I had intended to post a chapter in the middle of this week, but I had problems with my PC. If it lets me, I intend to keep posting at the rate of one chapter per week until Christmas. **

**Continued thanks to all the nice people who are reading this and especially to the lovely people who are taking the trouble to review. Please continue to let me know whether you like this!**

Alex was so absorbed in her thoughts that it was an effort to respond to the nurse who brought her breakfast and asked how she felt.

"Thanks, I'm feeling better now. I'm sorry about yesterday, I had a bit of a flashback after I gave the statement."

"I know, dear, the doctors are worried about that. They had been so pleased with your progress and they don't want this to set it back. The police really shouldn't have made you talk about it so soon. No wonder you were upset. You'll be having more tests later."

Alex cursed inwardly. Last night's hysterical outburst was likely to keep her in hospital for longer. _I've got to snap out of this. Concentrate on persuading everyone that I feel fine, that last night was just a blip. Pay attention to what's happening around me. I must get out of here as soon as possible. _

Her good resolutions were almost immediately put to the test when Evan walked into the room. He had tactfully kept to the background since her awakening in 2008, letting her concentrate on Molly, but she had known that, sooner or later, she would have to face him. She knew that she would never be able to think of him in the same way again. The price of knowing that Gene and her life in the 1980s were real, was the proof that the godfather and guardian who had taken such loving care of her since her parents' deaths was also the man whose affair with her mother had unwittingly caused those deaths. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at him without feeling betrayed.

_Some day I'll have to confront him with what I know now. I'll need to clear the air. But not yet._

"Morning, Alex. How are you feeling now?"

"Better than I was in the middle of the night. I'm sorry, I know I must have sounded rude then. I was still very dopey."

He laid a hand over hers, and she forced herself not to pull away. "Think nothing of it. You've had a rough time."

"So have you, and I haven't even thanked you yet for looking after Molly. It must have been horrendous for you, ever since you got the news that I'd been shot."

He grimaced. "The worst bit was having to break the news to her and then get her here. But since we arrived and were told that your injuries were comparatively minor, she's been a little tower of strength. Sometimes I've felt that she's been looking after me. You should be very proud of her."

Alex smiled. "I am. But I still want to thank you. You seem to spend all your life looking after little girls."

He smiled in return. "My pleasure. I never had any of my own, so you and Molly are my two little girls."

That almost made Alex wince, knowing what she now knew, but she controlled herself and changed the subject. "When is she going back to school? I love having her here, but we know now that I'm in no danger, and it should just be a matter of time before I'm sent home. I don't want her to get behind in her work. You can bring her to see me before and after school."

"The headmistress said that she could stay off school for as long as she's needed. You'll have a job dislodging her from here. We don't know how long they intend to keep you here, but I think it'll be a few days yet. Your wound was minor, but they're concerned about trauma."

_Damn._ "Oh, but Evan, I'm sure that's not necessary. Can't you say something to them?"

He laughed. "Alex, there isn't anyone who actually wants to stay in hospital. I'm sure they won't keep you here for longer than they have to."

Before she could protest again, Molly bustled in with a bulging satchel under her arm. "Hi, Mum! Here are your books." Shooing Evan out of the way, she took three paperbacks and a hardback from the satchel and piled them on Alex's bedside cabinet. "That's in chronological order, _City of Masks_ comes first and the hardback, _City of Secrets_, is the most recent. Make sure you read them in the right order or you'll get spoilers. Come on, Evan, Mum needs to rest, and I'm sure I spotted some chocolate biscuits in the cafeteria."

As Molly dragged the half-amused, half-bewildered Evan out by one arm, Alex heard him say bemusedly, "Teen fiction?"

"If Mum wants to read it, why _not_? said Molly firmly. "Seriously, Evan, I'm glad to see her taking an interest in something, and at least this is light reading. The doctors wouldn't like it if she wanted to read any of her psychology stuff."

Her voice died away as she towed Evan down the corridor, and Alex felt a surge of gratitude. Somehow Molly understood that it was important to her to read these books, and had given her the privacy to enable her to make a start. She reached for the first volume.

The next few days were a blur of tests, examinations, talks with Molly and Evan, visits from friends and colleagues, and readings and re-readings of the _Stravaganza _books whenever she had a spare moment. She begged Molly to bring her a notebook and pen, and kept copious notes. She found the books quick to read, very well and excitingly written, with a wealth of historical detail which put them far beyond the normal run of what Evan had so disparagingly called "teen fiction". They were calculated to appeal to adults just as much as to teenagers, and the amount of research that the author had undertaken for each book must have been phenomenal. Molly's summary of them proved to be very accurate. Every book told the story of a London teenager who acquired a talisman which enabled him or her to stravagate to a different city in the parallel world of Talia, where they were needed to assist in the struggles of the free city states against the machinations of a powerful noble family obviously modelled on the Medici.

_Was the ring sent to me because I'm needed in 1982?_

Normally Alex would have enjoyed reading the books for their own sakes, but now she concentrated feverishly on anything which described the process of stravagation and any differences or similarities to what had happened when she first went to 1981.

_That was because I was shot. I didn't have a choice and I didn't have a way back. With stravagation, after the first visit it happens by choice and there is a way back so long as I keep my talisman._

As Molly had said, in the books the conditions appeared to be that the talisman had to originate from Talia and was either brought to London by a Talian Stravagante who handed it direct to the recipent, or was left for them to find. It was also possible for a Stravagante in one world to visit the other world and bring back a talisman from there for someone else in their own world. The talisman always took the Stravagante to the same place in the other world.

_In my case, my flat above Luigi's. Presumably because that was the place I left when I came back here. The first time I went back in time, I was shot on the boat and woke up there in 1981. I didn't stravagate then. But the ring was found there with me after I was shot. Did it travel back with me? The books don't mention that, but the rules may be different when travelling in time in the same world. In the books, Stravagantes travel between worlds. _

There was, as Molly had said, the danger of a Stravagante losing their talisman, becoming stranded in the other world and being left in a coma in their home world. The books made it very clear that, the fewer people who knew about Stravaganti or could identify them, the better. In Talia, Stravaganti were in danger of being accused of witchcraft.

_I wouldn't face that in 1982, but just imagine what would happen if some villain like Neary or Layton stole my talisman and used it to stravagate to 2008. Not only would I be stranded in 1982, the thief could set up parallel operations in 1982 and 2008, with all the benefits of twenty-first century technology, and they wouldn't even be known to the police in 2008. _

What Molly had not mentioned, was that when Stravaganti were visiting the other world, they did not cast a shadow.

_I'd have to be careful about that. I can just imagine Chris's face if he sees me without a shadow. _

Most worrying of all, as Molly had warned her, the time portal between the two worlds was not always stable. The first Stravagante, an old man from sixteenth century England, was still alive in Talia to meet twenty-first century teenagers. During the events covered by the books, the times ran parallel but roughly twelve hours apart, allowing Stravaganti to visit their other world while asleep in their own, but the portal could be disrupted by the permanent translation of a Stravagante from one world to the other - sometimes by months, sometimes by many years.

_Maybe that was what happened when Sam killed himself. Seven years passed there and less than a year here. And when I was shot and went back to the 1980s, fourteen months passed there and only a day and a half here._

_Sam wasn't a Stravagante. Nor was I when I was in the 1980s, but what if my waking up here, with my talisman, has caused the portal to shift again?_

_It was all right when I went back. My clock in the flat said 14.47, and when I woke here a few minutes later, it was early morning. About twelve hours apart, and two days had elapsed there and here. _

_But who knows what might have happened since?_

_I must get back as soon as I can. Before it's too late._

**TBC**


	4. Return and Departure

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. I only use their ideas.**

**Continued thanks to everyone who is continuing to read this, and especially my lovely reviewers. Please remember, reviews are gold - unless you tell me, I don't know whether I'm doing anything right (or wrong!)**

She was kept in hospital for a fortnight. The wound healed well, but although she tried her utmost to convince everyone that she was fighting fit, she could not conceal that she was sleeping badly and suffering from headaches, which she insisted were caused by the uncomfortable hospital pillow, which was hurting her neck. Although she could not admit it, she knew that her frantic anxiety to get out of hospital was only adding to her stress and prolonging her stay. After the first week, she was so desperate to return to 1982 that she was tempted to risk trying to stravagate from her hospital bed, but she knew that the nursing staff were watching her like hawks. Any suggestion of her going into a coma could be disastrous.

As time dragged on, she was enchanted and tortured every night by increasingly vivid dreams of being with Gene, in their bed, safe in his arms. Every night she awakened, sweating and trembling with unsatisfied desire, weeping at finding herself in a world which was bleak and empty because he was not in it. She would lie in the darkness trying to recall the feel of him in her arms, of his arms enfolding her, his broad shoulders looming over her, his long, slender fingers caressing her, his breath on her face, his full lips on hers, the softness of his dark golden mane as she ran her fingers through it, his body against hers, within her, the heat of his skin, the urgent yet tender passion of their lovemaking, his warm voice, gruff with desire, then gentle and comforting in the aftermath of loving, the sound of his heart beating against her ear as he held her afterwards, her head resting on his chest, while fierce aftershocks coursed through her. It was as though the ring beneath her pillow was taking her back to him, even while she was not wearing it. She knew that it wasn't. She was dreaming during the night, which in 1982 was his daytime. But she did wonder whether he dreamed about her, as she did about him.

She did not know how worried the doctors were about the apparent psychological effects of her injury. She had spent so long in the 1980s that it was more real to her than her life in 2008, and she was so absorbed by her dreams and by her hopes of returning, that she found it hard to adjust to the world around her. The only people in 2008 to whom she could still relate were Molly and, to a lesser extent, Evan. Friends and colleagues who came to see her left feeling bewildered and often hurt because she treated them gently but distantly, as though she had last seen them many years ago instead of only a few days.

When she was discharged at last, Evan insisted on driving her and Molly home, and she gratefully accepted. As he had predicted, Molly had stuck to her like a burr all the time she was in hospital, and had only with the greatest reluctance agreed to return to school on the morrow. Walking out to the hospital car park, leaning heavily on Evan's arm, Alex suspected that she might not be allowed to drive for some time, and that she would have to rely on him to drive Molly to and from school until she could get back behind the wheel. He had always done so much for her, ever since she was orphaned. She was beginning to accept, now, that perhaps that went a long way towards atoning for his part in her parents' deaths.

_I won't tell him what I know about Mum and Dad unless I have to. He doesn't deserve it. It's enough that I know. _

For all her brave words, she still felt tired and weak, and after a fortnight confined to bed her arms and legs felt like pieces of spaghetti. She knew that her employers were certain to insist on signing her off sick for a considerable time, and that they would not allow her to return to work until every possible test had been carried out to ensure that she was fit to do so. They were probably terrified that she would seek compensation for her injury and potential loss of earnings. Evan had urged her to so, but she had absolutely refused, maintaining that whatever had happened to her was her own fault for not checking the back seat of her car before getting behind the wheel. It was a rookie's mistake, and she didn't see why the Met and the taxpayer should have to suffer for it. It wasn't as though she needed the money. She would receive full sick pay, and intended to use her enforced leisure to advance several writing projects. The book about Sam Tyler, however, had been abandoned. Molly had expressed surprise over that, but Alex had simply said that, on reflection, she did not feel that it would be right to cash in on the memory of a man who had died in such tragic circumstances.

Molly was fizzing with excitement all the way home, and when they got indoors, Alex saw why. A "Welcome Home" banner, obviously the work of Molly's own fair hands, was swagged across the entrance hall, and Molly insisted on waiting on her hand and foot for the rest of the day, including cooking supper ("It's OK, Mum, I learned how to make all these things in cookery classes"). Miraculously, everything was edible, although the quiche was a bit overdone and the greens rather stringy. Alex would actually have preferred to lie down and then take the day quietly, slipping back into routine. The journey home had exhausted her and if she was to stravagate overnight she didn't expect to get much sleep. But she couldn't resist her daughter's beaming delight at having her back home again. Tears prickled behind her eyes as she contemplated how much she was beloved here. How could she think of taking any risk, however slight, of losing it all over again? But while there was a chance that she could return to 1982, she knew that she had to try.

_Tonight. At last I'll be able to try tonight._

She went to bed very early, truthfully claiming extreme fatigue.

"The hospital's given me some very strong sleeping pills, Mols. I don't know how long they'll keep me under. Don't worry if I oversleep in the morning or you can't wake me, it'll be because the tablets are still knocking me out."

"OK, Mum, no worries. If I can't wake you I'll leave you to have your sleep out and get my own breakfast. Can't have you overtiring yourself when you're only just out of hospital. Evan'll come for me at half past eight."

"Thanks, darling. Good night."

"Good night, Mum. And, Mum, I love you, and it's so nice to have you back home."

"I love you too, darling, and I'm so glad to be back. Good night."

She locked her door on the inside and sat on the bed, suddenly afraid of what she was about to do. She was so tired. Perhaps she should give herself a decent night's sleep tonight and try to stravagate tomorrow.

_No. I've been waiting for this for a fortnight. If I wait even one more day, it could affect the time portal. It has to be now._

She had thought long and hard about how to dress for her attempt. According to the books, a Stravagante always travelled to the same place, so she should wake up in her flat, but she was wary of trying to stravagate in her nightshirt in case the talisman did deposit her anywhere else. The thought of waking up in nightwear on board Layton's boat, or in CID, was not to be contemplated. She did not have anything in her wardrobe remotely like her usual 1980s outfit of white leather jacket, batwing top, jeans and boots, but she had a grey woollen dress reminiscent of the one she had worn on the morning of the bottom-stamping ceremony. The fabric was slightly darker, the sleeves were narrower and it had a cowl neck, but at a cursory glance it should pass muster until she could get something from the wardrobe in her flat. She added a narrow black belt and black high-heeled shoes and studied the effect in the mirror.

_Oh, God. My hair._

There was no way that she could recreate her perm. She didn't have any curling tongs in the house, and even if she did, Molly would think she had gone mad if she emerged from her bedroom in the morning with curls. Frowning, she took a long grey scarf and draped it around her head. Not at all like her 1980s look, but it would have to do.

Her heart thudded with excitement as she lay down on the bed, took off the ring, held it tightly in her hand and closed her eyes.

_My flat above Luigi's, September 1982. Gene, I'm coming to you, my love._

She slid into a deep sleep.

**TBC**


	5. Back to 1982

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. Wish I had original ideas as good as this.**

**Renewed thanks to those who are sticking with this and especially those kind souls who have taken the time and trouble to review. **

**This is a short but VERY significant chapter. I realise that I may have tried the patience of some of you in taking so many chapters to send Alex back, but now you'll find out where and when she's going - and what she'll find when she gets there. **

**I anticipate this being the last update before Christmas. Family illness and PC problems permitting, normal service will be resumed early in the New Year (sorry, clownish, no plagiarism intended). **

**In the spirit of Christmas, PLEASE review if you have the enthusiasm and the inclination - the more reviews I get, the more encouragement I'll have to post the next chapter!**

**In the meantime, a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my readers!**

She opened her eyes and found herself lying on the bare mattress in her flat. There was no sign of the bedclothes. She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. It read 09.15 September 28.

_A fortnight since I left. But am I still in the same year? Where are my pillows and duvet?_

She put the ring on her finger, sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up, trying to ignore the fog of fatigue threatening to cloud her brain. At least she could stand, unlike last time. She looked into her wardrobe to get her usual clothes, but it was empty. Not even the few things that Gene usually left there remained. _Good job I arrived fully dressed. _Walking through to the kitchen, on an inspiration she looked into the larder. It was almost empty, but the few items remaining carried sell-by dates for late 1982 and early 1983.

_I've come back to the right year. Thank God. The time portal is still stable. But Gene doesn't live here any more. Has he gone back to his flat to wait for me? Or has he given up waiting? Why are my clothes gone as well as his? _

Going on to the lounge, she realised that a lot of other items were missing. The rug in front of the sofa. The sofa covers and cushions. All the other soft furnishings. There was a layer of what looked like dust on many surfaces. _Not in just a fortnight, surely? _She ran her finger over the coffee table and examined it. Black powder. _Fingerprint powder. The flat's a crime scene. They've taken my clothes and the other things away for forensic analysis. He's searching for me._

Very cautiously, she opened the front door. If there was a plod guarding it, she would have one hell of a job explaining how she came to be in there. Luck was with her. There was police tape stretched across the door, but nobody on guard. Ducking under the tape, she stepped into the corridor and softly closed the door. She was nervous about locking herself out of the flat, as she would need to get inside later to stravagate back, but by then she would have been able to explain everything, and Gene would give her his key.

She decided not to go out through the restaurant. If she met Luigi, she would be faced by a deluge of questions, and she did not dare stop. Cautiously opening the door to the external steps, she saw with relief that, although police tape was tied across the foot of the stairs, once again there was nobody on guard.

_Just as well for me, but when I tell Gene, he' ll have some plod's balls on a plate for leaving a crime scene unguarded. I'll have to hurry. Plod's probably only gone for a cup of tea. _

She felt dizzy. She had not been out of doors without Evan's supporting arm, since the shooting. _I've done this too soon. I'm not as strong as I thought I was. But I can't stop now. I have to get to him. _She wrapped the scarf closer around her head, gripped the banister, and forced herself to descend, anxious to be out of this exposed place as soon as possible. Reaching the foot of the stairs, she let go of the banister, ducked under the tape, stepped away and nearly fell. She did not know how she would manage to walk the short distance to the station. She lurched towards the kerb, praying that some vehicle would stop for long enough for her to get across the road, and blundered into a passer-by who grabbed her arm to stop her from falling.

"'Ere, mind 'ow you go, love - Bloody 'ell! BOSS!"

"Ray - oh, thank God! Please, help me. I have to find the Guv - "

He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost. "Where in 'ell's name have you been? Don't you know what's been 'appening?"

"Ray, I haven't known anything -"

"You've been missing a fortnight! There's been a nationwide search! News bulletins, your photo in all the papers, an appeal on Police Five - and you didn't _know?_" She had never seen him so stern.

"Oh, Ray, I couldn't help it. I can explain. Please, I have to get to the Guv. Is he at the station?"

"Oh, yes, 'e's at the station all right." There was a bitter sarcasm in his voice which she could not comprehend.

Alex stiffened. "Has something happened to him? What's wrong?"

Ray slowly shook his head. "You really don't know."

"_What?"_

"'E's under arrest on suspicion of your murder. E's being questioned now. They're expected to charge 'im today."

**TBC**


	6. Ray Explains

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything...**

**Thanks very much to everyone who's read and reviewed so far, and for putting up with the hiatus over Christmas while I've been posting "Candlelight". I hope everyone hasn't got bored with waiting! Anyway, normal service resumes here, and I'll try to keep the updates regular throughout the rest of this story - PC and family circumstances permitting.**

**Please keep the reviews coming in, we writers need encouragement!**

Alex's legs buckled beneath her, and if Ray had not put an arm around her waist she would have fallen.

_Gene, what have I done to you? _

_"Murder?_ Gene? But why?"

"Sorry, Boss," said Ray more gently, as he supported her. "I've given you a shock."

"Not half so much of a shock as I'll give you if you don't tell me why they think Gene murdered me!" Alex snapped. "For God's sake, take me to him."

"I'll tell you as we go," said Ray, still with surprising gentleness. "You're right. I must get you to 'im as soon as possible. Save 'is poor old heart from breakin'. I've never seen 'im the way 'e's been since you disappeared."

As he spoke, he imperiously waved the traffic to a standstill and helped her to stumble across the road. She had never felt so grateful for the big, capable DS, making a mental note to ask him sometime if he had started his career on traffic duty. Her progress was so agonisingly slow that disgruntled motorists started hooting their horns, and he was later to admit that he had come within an ace of picking her up and carrying her, except that he knew that only the Guv could do that and live.

When they reached the other side of the road, she turned to face him. "Now tell me."

"'E came into the station that morning sayin' you were ill, and at lunchtime 'e went back to the flat to check on you," Ray explained softly as he supported her, step by tortuous step, along the station frontage towards the entrance. "'E came back mad as 'ell, sayin' that the place was empty an' you must 'ave buggered off on your own. But when you didn't come back later that day or the next, 'e got worried and started gettin' us to run a search on all the places 'e thought you might be, checkin' up who's on the loose who might 'ave a grudge against 'im or you. 'E couldn't shake the idea that someone might have kidnapped you to get at 'im. Like I told you, 'e went to the press, there was a TV appeal - "

"Oh, Ray, he didn't go on television again for me?"

"Not 'im, 'e knew better than to risk cocking it up again. 'E left it to Shawe Taylor." His face darkened. "Then a week ago, 'e was taken off the case and they started questioning him."

"But _why?_"

"'E was the last person to see you alive," said Ray grimly, " and you'd 'ad a heated argument the day before in front of at least a dozen witnesses. The theory is that you'd continued rowing after you'd got back to the flat, and 'e hit you too hard and killed you by accident. Forensics went right through your flat and his, and the Quattro was impounded. Traces of your skin and 'air were found in the boot. They think 'e hid your body in the flat, transferred it to the boot overnight, and disposed of it the next day when 'e was driving around like a madman, searchin' for you."

"But this is ridiculous! We always argue! You all know that. It doesn't mean anything. And Gene would _never _harm me."

"This isn't about the team, Boss", said Ray quietly. "We all know 'e's innocent. But there are people up there who want 'im out. 'E doesn't fit in with Scarman's idea of policing. This is their perfect opportunity to discredit 'im. They've got themselves enough evidence to put 'im in the frame. Even if they can't make the charge stick, the mud would stick. Sooner or later it'd end 'is career an' destroy 'im. Thank God you're 'ere, Boss - for both your sakes."

As he spoke, he was tenderly helping her up the steps and through the entrance. As they reached the desk, she caught sight of Viv, his eyes like saucers.

"Viv, you can tell the team to call off the search for our missing DI," said Ray briskly. "I'm taking 'er straight to the Guv. Where is 'e?"

"The _temporary _Guv is in our Guv's office. As usual," Viv said pointedly. "_Our _Guv's being interviewed." Ray nodded his thanks and steered Alex towards the corridor. As they passed through the swing doors and inched their way along the corridor, Alex heard angry voices issuing from the interview room. The first, which she did not know, was cocky and arrogant.

"Now, come on, Hunt, why don't you make it easier for yourself? You have a reputation for violence, and your bad temper is legendary. We accept that it may have been an accident. The two of you had been quarrelling earlier in the day. There are witnesses who can confirm that. When you both went back to her flat, the quarrel flared up again. Maybe she lashed out at you. She'd done that at least once before. You struck back to defend yourself -"

"_No!_" Alex recognised the barely suppressed fury in Gene's voice, but there was something else which she had never heard there before, the desperation of a cornered animal. She shuddered. _My proud Lion surrounded by jackals. They want to pull him down. I won't let them._

"Maybe you hit her harder than you intended. Maybe she fell and struck her head. Whatever, you were left with a dead DI and a restaurant full of your colleagues downstairs."

"_NO!_"

"You waited until the middle of the night, then you took the body downstairs and hid it in the boot of your car."

"_NO!_"

"The following morning, you went to work as usual and claimed that DI Drake was ill. At lunchtime, you returned to the flat and raised the alarm. Later in the day, you drove away alone on the pretext of searching for DI Drake. That was when you disposed of the body_. Where is it, Hunt?_"

"'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell you meatheads that I've never laid a violent finger on 'er? I love that woman. I'd lay down my life for 'er. I'd sooner shoot meself than do 'er any 'arm!"

"Traces of her hair and skin have been found in the boot of your car", a third voice said harshly. "How do you explain that, if her body hasn't been there?"

"I've already told you," said Gene wearily. "'Er washing machine broke down the week before she disappeared. We took a load of stuff back to my place to wash it. The bin bag split when we were gettin' it out an' all the dirty washing spilled inside the boot."

"You don't deny that you were quarrelling on the day she disappeared?" said the first voice.

"Of course not! The whole of CID 'eard us. It didn't mean anything, we'd called it quits by the time we left work. We bought each others' drinks at Luigi's, and at closing time we went upstairs to the flat. We were fine by then."

"What were you quarrelling about?"

"Professional differences," said Gene wearily. "As usual. We respect each others' working methods but that doesn't mean we 'ave to like 'em."

"Not about another man? A beautiful, intelligent woman like her could easily have found someone better than you - a coarse, violent, hard-drinking brute ten years her senior."

"Something I've thought meself," said Gene very honestly. "But no, it wasn't."

"She had a reputation for promiscuity. You were jealous."

"She played the field a bit when she first joined my team," Gene admitted. "But not for a year, and certainly not since we got engaged five months ago."

"Another woman, then? Let's say that you have past form - "

"No. There's no other woman in the world for me, now. Never will be."

"I put it to you," said the harsh voice, "that you resented DI Drake's success. You knew that she was the future of policing while you're forever stuck in the past."

"Was! Why do you say was? We don't know she's dead! I pray she's alive!" Gene roared. "She's so full of life! An' while you're busy tryin' to build a case against me, you're neglecting the search for 'er! She could still be out there, injured or lost, or bein' 'eld prisoner by some bastard, waitin' for me to find 'er!"

"You knew how bad she made you look, both personally and professionally. You knew she'd destroy your career and then leave you. Maybe she told you that evening that she was leaving you. So you killed her."

"NO! NO! _NO! _" Gene howled. "I left 'er asleep in bed that morning, an' when I came back at lunchtime the flat was empty. I don't know where she is. I wish to God I did. I'd give the rest of my life to know she's safe and well!"

Alex and Ray had reached the door at last. That corridor had never seemed so agonisingly long. She paused for a second with her hand on the door handle, and looked at Ray. He nodded briefly, and she opened the door.

"DI Drake entered the interview room at - " she glanced at the clock - "nine forty-six."

**TBC**


	7. Alex to the Rescue

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything, all I do is borrow it... **

**Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading this, and for all the lovely reviews for Chapter 6! You've all been urging me to update, so here, hot off the pocket PC, is the next instalment. Remember, the more reviews I get, the more encouragement I have to update quickly... **

Four astonished pairs of eyes stared at her. Although it went against her every instinct, she looked at the interviewee's side of the table, where Gene sat with Evan beside him. _Evan? Here?_ Behind her, Ray also declared himself for the tape, but nobody paid him any attention.

"Alex! Thank God!" Evan almost laughed in his surprise.

Alex could only gaze at Gene, feasting her eyes on the sight of him. He stared at her, white as a sheet, hope and joy dawning on his haggard, exhausted face. _Oh, my poor love. My Lion at bay._

"Bloody 'ell! Bolly?" he whispered. _"Bolly?"_

"Oh, Gene - " she gasped, holding out her arms to him.

Slowly, awfully, he rose to his feet.

"DI DRAKE, WHERE THE EVERLASTIN', THUNDERIN', BLUE-BLAZIN', FUCKIN' BLOODY _'ELL FIRE _ 'AVE YOU _BEEN_?"

_I can't blame him for being furious with me. I don't even want to think what this last fortnight has been like for him. I've lost his love. But at least I can clear him. That's why I was needed here. Even if I never see him again, I'll save him._

"Gene, I'm so sorry, I - " She lurched and nearly fell. Quick as thought, Gene came around the table and caught her.

"Steady, Bols. You're not well. I didn't realise," he said more gently. Suddenly he caught her so tightly in his arms that she could hardly breathe. She sagged luxuriously against him, drinking in the warmth and strength and life of him, the solid comfort of his body, the scent of him, his racing heartbeat, his arms around her, supporting and sustaining her. She felt alive as she had not done since she had last been with him.

_Alive and safe._

"Oh, love," he whispered. "Thought I'd never see you again..." Looking up, he caught sight of the two investigating officers staring at them open-mouthed, and treated them to the full force of his glare.

"What are you starin' at?" he snarled. "Give 'er a chair, you morons! Can't you see she's ill?" Alex smiled into his chest, silently exultant at the way her sudden return had restored his authority. His erstwhile tormentors jumped to their feet and one of them pushed his chair forward.

"I found 'er in the street just now, Guv," said Ray, as Gene tenderly lowered her into the chair. "She looked right out of it. She can 'ardly walk."

"Thanks, Ray," said Gene absently. "Water - " Evan poured some water from a carafe on the table into a glass and passed it to Gene, who knelt in front of Alex and held it to her lips. She took a couple of sips and shook her head, and he put the glass down.

"Carling, get Granger to make 'er some tea, wi' plenty of sugar! Yes, I know she doesn't take it, but it's good for shock! Just go!" he snapped. Ray nodded, muttered his departure for the tape which ran on unheeded, and disappeared. Gene sat back on his heels and gazed at her, for a moment lost to everything but the woman who had suddenly been restored to him.

"Bolly, it - it _is_ you?"

Without a word, she slipped her hand inside his jacket and laid it over his heart. Gently, he laid his hand over hers and nodded his understanding.

"But, DI Drake, where _have_ you been?" said Arrogant Voice, behind her. "You must be aware that there's been a full-scale search for you over the past fortnight. Considerable police resources have been devoted to finding you. At the very least you owe us, and DCI Hunt, an explanation."

Alex hesitated_. Why do they have to ask me when I'm too tired to think straight?_ She had anticipated telling Gene everything, _although getting him to believe me will be hard enough_, but somehow she had never imagined having to explain in front of strangers. _The truth won't do, but what can I say? _She hung her head wearily, and the scarf slipped to the floor like a snake.

"Your 'air..." said Gene, puzzled. " 'S' different - " He reached out to touch a straight, shining lock, and she flinched as his hand brushed her wounded temple. "What is it, love?"

"Nothing - "

"Don't look like nothing to me. No, let me look." She tried to pull away as he gently lifted her hair aside, revealing her scar. His face contorted with horror. "JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY! _Who did this?_"

The others crowded around. "That's a bullet wound!" said Arrogant Voice, who turned out be short, stoutish and red-faced.

"What kind of stitches are those?" added Harsh Voice, who was as thin and miserable-looking as the proprietor of an unsuccessful health food emporium.

_Hell. How do I explain this? _

"Who did this, Bolly?" Gene's voice was ominously quiet, and she inwardly shrank from his cold fury, even though she knew that it was not directed at her. "What bastard dared do this to my girl?" Something of her fear must have communicated itself to him, as he added more gently, "Don't look so scared, love. Whatever's 'appened to you, you're safe 'ere. You're in a police station, for fuck's sake. You're surrounded by coppers. You couldn't be safer than you are 'ere."

"I'm always safe with you, Gene," she said softly, taking his hand in hers and reaching out to touch his cheek. "Wherever I am." He nodded, looking uncomfortable. Behind her, she could almost feel the surprise of the investigating officers as a tangible thing. Knowing Gene only from his violent reputation, they were astonished to discover the gentleness and tenderness of which he was capable.

_Four decades of feminism are telling me not to go all soft and yielding. I'll ruin my image at this station forever, and Gene is embarrassed because I've made him look a jessie. But all that matters now is making these people see how much we love and trust each other, and that Gene would never, ever hurt me._

"DI Drake," said Arrogant Voice, with the air of a man who knew that he was about to put his foot in it but felt that it was his duty to speak, "if it would make it any easier for you, we can ask DCI Hunt to leave the room."

"Oh, no!" She gripped Gene's hand tightly. "Don't let them send you away!" She turned to face the speaker, still holding onto Gene's hand, and made her brow furrow with a look of pretty, feminine inquiry. "What do you mean? Why should I want Gene to go?"

"They thought I killed you, love," Gene said grimly behind her. "They thought I 'it you too 'ard an' disposed of the body."

"_What?_" She turned back to him, wide-eyed with horror. "_You? _" She rounded on the luckless investigating officers. "But that's _ridiculous!_ Which one of you - you _divs_ thought that one up?"

"Er, Drake, you are addressing a senior officer 'ere," Gene rumbled, trying unsuccessfully to keep the undercurrent of amusement out of his voice. Behind him, she was aware of Evan's keen relish of the situation. "DCI Fox and DI Hathaway."

"I don't care who they are!" she exploded, turning back to them. "How could you possibly think that my Gene could do something like that? He'd never hurt me, or any woman! He has more chivalry in his little finger than a lot of so-called gentlemen have in their whole bodies! He has absolutely nothing to do with my disappearance! Wasn't it enough for him to bear that I'd vanished, but you had this _ludicrous _suspicion -"

"All right, DI Drake, we accept that DCI Hunt had nothing to do with your disappearance," said Arrogant Voice heavily. "But if he didn't, who did?"

Suddenly she felt exhausted again, and her head sagged. _How do I get out of this?_

"You'll 'ave to tell us, love," said Gene gently. His face tensed. "Would - would it be easier for you to talk without _any_ blokes present? We can find another woman officer - "

_Good God, the Genie turned sensitive. Who'd have thought it?_

"No, no, I can talk here, now." He visibly relaxed. _I see now. He's afraid that I've been raped. _

_I can tell them the truth about my shooting. Just not when it happened._

She looked up at Gene. "Lay - " she began. He pressed her hand encouragingly, and she checked herself.

_This is 1982. Layton's been in jail since he shot me last February. I can't name him. _

"Yes?"

"I - I didn't see his face," she amended hesitantly. "That morning - I woke up with a bad headache, you went out and left me to sleep it off. After about an hour, I woke up feeling better, and decided I'd try to come to work. I must have left the flat - about ten forty-five, I think. Not sure. I came down the outside stairs. At the foot - just as I was about to step forward to the kerb - I felt a gun in my back."

Gene hissed as though suppressing the pain from a wound.

"Voice in my ear - didn't recognise it - told me to turn round into the alley. He came round behind me so I still didn't see him. He was so close - must have looked to passers by as though he had his arm around me. There was a car parked there - green - Fiat I think - R-reg - can't remember the full registration - too scared. He told me to get in and drive. I did. He got in the back. I looked in the driving mirror - he was crouched down low, I couldn't see him but he had the gun in the gap between the seats - it was poking in my ribs. We drove east, towards Docklands - can't remember all the route, but I remember passing Tower Bridge. Somewhere along there - can't remember where - he told me to stop and get out. He made me go down a gangway and onto an old boat. He took me below and made me sit on the floor. It was the only time I faced him, but there was light coming in from the side and it dazzled me. Still couldn't see his face. He pointed the gun at me and fired. Must have lost consciousness. Can't remember anything else... until Ray found me outside just now."

The silence when she had finished was broken, characteristically, by Gene. "Bastard!"

"DI Drake, it's strange that you have quite a good recollection of events leading up to the shooting, but nothing at all beyond it," said Harsh Voice.

"That could be down to shock," said Arrogant Voice. "It can cause temporary gaps in the memory."

"She might 'ave been kept drugged since the shooting," Gene added thoughtfully. "Carling said she was out of it when 'e found 'er. She can 'ardly stand now. Could just be weakness if she 'asn't been fed, but there might be more to it than that."

"But why should she kidnapped, shot, and then released?" said Harsh Voice. "It doesn't make sense."

"I 'ate to say "told you so"," said Gene, not sounding as though he hated it at all, "but it would fit in with me original theory that she was snatched by someone with a grudge against me or my team. She got taken to a boat somewhere in Docklands, past Tower Bridge. That was Arthur Layton's patch. He used to own most of the floaters along there until we put 'im inside. Drake might 'ave been snatched by a stray member of 'is gang we didn't net. We need to check who might 'ave taken over those boats along with Layton's territory. Or the snatch might 'ave been done by a hired gun workin' for a bigger cheese. God knows we've pissed off a lot of criminals since she joined my team. Then the search got so well publicised they didn't dare 'old 'er any longer. Thank God they turned 'er loose instead of killin' 'er," he added with a deep sigh, and drew an arm around her.

"Whoever it was, they were careless to leave this behind," said Harsh Voice, taking Alex's left hand and looking curiously at her ring. "What criminal leaves diamonds and gold?"

"It's engraved inside," said Alex, withdrawing her hand with a look of distaste. "Very recognisable."

"Yeah, and a full description of it was included in all the press releases an' TV appeals," Gene added. "Including the engraving. Every jeweller in the country's been on the lookout for it. If anyone 'ad tried to sell it, it would 'ave been dynamite."

"Of course, so far all this is only theorising," Arrogant Voice cut in pompously, "but - "

"DI Carling entered the interview room at nine fifty-two," Ray announced as he came in with Alex's tea.

"RIGHT!" Gene slammed his fist on the table, rose to his feet, almost snatched the tea from Ray and pushed it into Alex's hands. "You get that down you, Bols. Carling, Drake tells us she was snatched off the street outside Luigi's by some toerag who took 'er to a boat on the north bank of the Thames, somewhere in Docklands, an' shot 'er. I want the team to do a full check on the registered owners of all the boats moored on the north bank of the Thames in the Greater London area. Anythin' bigger than a chamber pot, I wanna know about it. Someone's done the Bayeux Tapestry on 'er face. Might be a villain with medical knowledge, but put out a query to all 'ospitals, surgeons, doctors, private practices an' medical students. Give 'em Drake's picture. Look for witnesses who might 'ave seen a R-reg green car, probably a Fiat, drivin' along the north bank of the river towards Docklands between ten-thirty an' midday the mornin' Drake disappeared. Put the word out for any vehicle fitting that description which was stolen two to three weeks ago or that's been abandoned or resprayed since. Might 'ave 'ad its numberplates changed too. Get Granger to take Drake to the medics. I want 'em to give 'er a full MOT, includin' blood tests, check 'er for drugs, general state of 'ealth, _anything_ which might indicate where she's been an' what's been 'appening to 'er. Get Forensics to collect 'er clothes for analysis. Then send Granger out to get 'er some things to wear until Forensics send back the rest of 'er clothes back. Well, what are you waitin' for, my personal rendition of _'Appy days are 'ere again_? DO IT NOW!" Ray fled.

"Er, DCI Hunt," said Arrogant Voice, seeming diminished by the whirlwind that was Gene, "I would like to point out that you are still officially suspended - "

"I believe, gentlemen," Evan interrupted with quiet triumph, "that as the alleged murder victim has reappeared alive and well, and has testified that my client had nothing to do with her disappearance, he must be free to go without a stain on his character."

_Client?_

"Yes. Of course," Arrogant Voice muttered uneasily.

"And that his suspension must be lifted with immediate effect."

Arrogant Voice visibly deflated. "Yes. I'll go and speak to the Superintendent straight away."

"And he should receive a full offical apology."

"Yes. I'll tell the Superintendent."

"Yes, an' I want my office back," said Gene grimly. "I'm goin' to apply to the Super to assign me to this investigation. This is _my_ officer that some bastard pinched off the street, in full view of _my_ station, _and_ she's _my_ fiancée. Drake an' I both want our flats an' our clothes, soft furnishings an' bedding back, AN' I WANT MY CAR!"

"I'll have crime scene status removed from both locations and arrange for your property to be returned to you in good order as soon as possible," Arrogant Voice muttered sullenly.

"Good. Drake'll probably want to go 'ome and lie down when the medics 'ave finished with 'er," said Gene firmly. "She's 'ad a bad time, an' she'll need familiar surroundings, not some bloody soulless 'otel."

Evan rose and shut his briefcase with a decisive snap. "Well, Hunt, I'll be going. You won't be needing me for a while, now you have an investigation to run."

Gene shook his hand, while Alex watched open-mouthed. "Thanks for everything, White."

"Think nothing of it," said Evan, smiling. "The important thing is that Alex is safe. I know you'll take good care of her."

_ Ouch. That was aimed at the investigating officers._

"Of course," said Gene gravely.

"It's good to see you back, Alex," said Evan, leaning over and smiling at her. "We'll talk later, Hunt." As he opened the door, he almost collided with Shaz, who was standing outside with her hand raised to knock.

"Granger!" Gene barked. "Get Drake along to the medics. Finished your tea, Bols? See you later. I'm off to kick a certain pompous little prat out of my office so fast 'e'll bounce all the way down the corridor!"

He whirled out, leaving a round-eyed Shaz to help Alex to her feet and steer her out of the interview room.

_As Ray once said, Jeez, are we back to normal._

**TBC**


	8. Examination

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. Not me.**

**Thanks yet again to everyone who's reading this and especially to my lovely reviewers. Please keep the comments coming in, it is so much appreciated. You've encouraged me into a quick update!**

While Alex appreciated Gene's chivalry in not accompanying her to the medics in person, or getting Ray to do so, it would have made for faster progress. She was still feeling weak and shaky, and she could not lean on Shaz as she had been able to do with Ray. In addition, she almost felt as though she was in the position of comforting the younger girl, who was staring at her with as much awe as if she were a holy relic.

"Oh, Ma'am, I can't believe you're here. We've all been so afraid for you and for the Guv. We knew he'd never hurt you, and he's been frantic with worry about you."

"I know, Shaz. I'm just so relieved to be here."

"What happened, Ma'am? Or can't you say?"

Alex hesitated. "I told Gene and the others about it while the interview tape was still running. They'll probably be taking that as my statement, in which case you'll be typing it up later. I'd rather not talk about it now if you don't mind."

_I just hope I can remember what I said. Time to change the subject._

"Of course not, Ma'am," said Shaz sympathetically.

"Tell me, Shaz, who is the pompous prat whom Gene wants to kick out of his office?"

"DCI Mitchell. He's the acting DCI while the Guv's been suspended. Oh, he's awful, Ma'am! He won't let anyone drink in the office, and he won't let Chris and me be alone together even for a minute because he says that it could constitute sexual harassment. He won't come to Luigi's with us because he said it sets a bad example for the police to be seen drinking in public and he doesn't want to socialise with junior officers. He hardly ever goes out on call, he just sits there in the office finding fault with everything we do and everything the Guv's been doing. We're sure he's after the Guv's job."

_Welcome to the world of modern policing._ "At least, if he hasn't been going out on call, that give Ray and Chris a bit more responsibility than the Guv ever lets them have," said Alex tactfully.

"You're right, Ma'am, it does, but when they've done the work he's been taking all the credit. Chris is livid about it, and you know it takes a lot to make him lose his temper."

_But Mitchell's politically correct, so he'll keep his job when the Genes of this world, who work their guts out but don't bow to Scarman, have to fight to keep theirs._

On being delivered to the station medics, Alex had to remove all her clothes, put them in plastic bags, hand them over for Forensics - _although they won't find much _ - and don a medical gown. She was careful to conceal the ring. If Forensics insisted on taking it, she would be in trouble. As it was, she was inexpressibly relieved that Gene had not insisted upon her going to hospital to be checked over, with the possibility of being detained overnight. She could at least be reasonably sure that the medics would finish with her within the day.

Over the next few hours, she underwent so many checks that she felt like a lab specimen. The medics took samples of her blood, urine and hair, and throat and skin swabs. They checked every inch of her body for wounds and marks. She underwent tests for reflexes, sight, hearing, heartbeat and breathing. She was glad that there wasn't a stress test. If there had been, she was so fed up that her score would have been off the Richter scale. In between tests, she was allowed to rest on a couch in the sick bay, and slept heavily, relieved by the knowledge that she could not accidentally stravagate back home while she was not wearing her ring.

By the time she had taken a shower and was free to go, it was nearly 3.30. Shaz returned with Alex's new clothes. The underwear was so utilitarian that she shuddered to think what Gene would say about it, and the dowdy wrapover dress had a pattern so hideous that in any other circumstances she would have had to be paid to wear it. But they would do to get her back to the flat.

"I'm sorry they're not very good, Ma'am," Shaz apologised. "I was going to go out and buy you some things, but there wasn't enough time, so I had to take these from Lost and Found. This was all there was in your size. I had to give priority to typing up your statement. The Guv wants you to read it over and sign it before you leave today."

"Glad to," said Alex, tying the wrapover dress with a vengeful knot and sliding the ring onto her finger. "Don't worry about the clothes, Shaz. It's very kind of you to find them for me. Just as you did when I first came here."

"Yes, Ma'am, but they suited you better."

"Never mind, I should have my own things back soon. It's lucky the Guv didn't have time to buy me any clothes, or goodness knows what I'd have ended up looking like."

"Funny you should say that, Ma'am. He's back at work for the first time in days and got his teeth into this investigation into your disappearance, we thought he wouldn't budge from his office for hours, but at lunchtime he made a phone call, nobody knows who to, took one of the pool cars, and drove off on his own for an hour."

"Maybe he was following a hunch."

"Maybe, Ma'am, but it's surprising that he didn't tell Ray and Chris about it. Would you feel all right to come through to the office and see to your statement now? The Guv wants you to go home as soon as possible."

"Of course."

Alex was relieved to find that, following her enforced inactivity during the hours of tests, her fatigue had lessened a little and she felt steadier on her feet. As they went down to the CID office, Shaz said softly, "The Guv's threatened to do time for anyone who upsets you today by asking silly questions about where you've been. He's already had a whiteboard set up and done a presentation to the team using your statement, so they shouldn't need to."

Alex smiled. "Thanks for explaining, Shaz. I don't mind if they do. At the moment I'm more worried about what they'll say, to my face _or_ behind my back, about what I'm wearing. My reputation at this station for dress sense will be gone for ever."

"That might come under the Guv's heading of silly questions, Ma'am," Shaz said tactfully.

As she entered the office, Shaz behind her, Chris looked up, jumped to his feet and applauded. Ray did the same, followed by all the others. Everywhere she looked, there were smiling, welcoming faces and raised hands clapping. Gene stood in his office, applauding madly and grinning from ear to ear. The "copper's ovation", all for her. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes as she realised yet again how much these people had come to accept her and love her. As she passed among them on the way to her desk, those who were near enough reached out to shake her hand, or just to touch her arm, as though to reassure themselves that she were real. As she passed Ray, she gripped his hand.

"Thanks, Ray. I owe you one."

As she reached her desk, Chris came over, beaming with his usual boyish enthusiasm, to shake her hand.

"Welcome back, Ma'am. It's wonderful to see you again."

"B-but I don't deserve this," she gulped.

"Of course you do."

"But I didn't even do anything. All I did was to go missing and then turn up again." She was near to tears.

"You're back when we were afraid we'd never see you again, and thanks to you the Guv's back too. We're a team again. Don't you think that that's enough, Ma'am?"

She was beyond answering and sank into her chair with a sob. The others surrounded her with murmurs of concern, but scattered like the bad men at the arrival of the Sheriff as Gene surged over to her desk.

"Does this look like leaving DI Drake alone, you prize collection of twats an' tossers? Who's goin' to be the first back to 'is desk to get some bloody _work_ done around 'ere this afternoon?"

Only Chris bravely stood his ground. "Sorry, Guv, but we're so glad to see both of you back -"

_"Off."_ Gene did not speak unkindly, for him, but Chris suddenly discovered the virtues of obedience and scuttled back to his desk. Gene turned to Alex.

"Well, Bolly, first the good news. One, my suspension is lifted. I am a DCI once more. Two, I am assured that an offical apology is on its way, but if I were to bet on it ever arrivin' I would be a poorer man. Three, our flats are no longer crime scenes, so I'm gonna take you 'ome as soon as possible."

_Thank God. I don't know if I can stravagate back from anywhere else._

"Now the bad news," he continued. "One, Forensics damn' nearly reduced the Quattro to its lowest common denominator to look for evidence and it'll take days to reassemble it. I've been assigned a pool car till it's back, but it's a soddin' rust bucket. Two, our flats may be our own again but Forensics 'aven't tidied up after themselves, so they're both a bloody mess."

"Yes, I kn - I can imagine." She had been about to say "I know", but checked herself in time. She could not let on that she had been in the flat that morning.

"Third, our clothes, bedding and other stuff hasn't been returned yet, so I'll 'ave to make do wi' what I stand up in an' keep lookin' at you in that fashion disaster for a bit longer. Looks like Picasso threw up all over it."

_So much for silly questions._ She exchanged a fleeting glance of feminine solidarity with Shaz, who slid a cup of tea onto her desk and beat a tactical retreat.

"This was all Shaz could get me from Lost and Found," she retorted cuttingly. "She was too busy_ working_ for you to go out and buy me anything." He made no direct answer, but she caught the gleam in his eye, understood how he had successfully distracted her from her tears, and felt a wave of gratitude.

"Yeah. Well, all is not lost. I've phoned Luigi, and 'e's lending us some spare bedding until our stuff's back. 'E an' 'is wife 'ave promised to do what they can to clean the place up for you."

Alex was genuinely touched. "Oh, how kind of them."

"When I told 'im you were back in one piece, I think 'e'd 'ave pinched the Crown Jewels for you if I'd asked 'im to, much less lent us sheets, pillows and a duvet an' taken a Hoover and a duster round the flat. 'E's also promised us dinner on the 'ouse. Are you up to doing your statement before we leave?"

"Yes, I know the team need it as soon as possible. I'll deal with it now, then we can go."

He nodded, squeezed her hand, and returned to his office. As she picked up the statement which Shaz had typed, she felt a pang of guilt at the sight of the whiteboard, covered in Gene's distinctive handwriting.

_Goodness knows how much police time and money will be wasted on this investigation. I could be prosecuted for this if anyone finds out. But I have to keep to my story because nobody would believe the truth. Except that I have to try to make Gene believe it._

With a sigh, she began to read. She could not remember now exactly what she had said in the interview room, but she knew that the transcribed statement would be the basis for everything that followed. It had to be consistent, and she would have to be able to remember it in case anyone wanted to challenge any detail of her story. She concentrated fiercely on memorising what she had said.

_Most of it shouldn't be too hard. What I described happening on the barge is what happened with Layton. I just have to remember the time I said I left the flat and the details of the car._

She gave herself half an hour, going through it in meticulous detail, then signed it and took it across to Shaz.

"Could you put this on the file, please, Shaz. I've tried, but I really can't remember anything else."

"Not surprising, after what you've been through," said Gene, behind her. She turned to face him. He stood, ready to leave, his coat over his arm. She went to him, and he carefully draped the coat over her shoulders, just as he had done when she had "the lurgy". "I'm takin' you home now, an' that's an order."

"OK, Guv." It was all she could do not to subside gratefully against him in front of CID, but she knew better than to push her luck.

He lifted an ironic eyebrow. "Oh. No arguments for once. This past fortnight I'd 'ave given anything for an argument wi' you, but right now it makes a nice change." He put his arm around her and raised his voice, addressing the room in general. "Right. Lady and gentlemen, I am takin' our newly returned DI home. I may see you at Luigi's later on." With which he swept her out of the door and down the corridor, slacking his pace when he realised that she could barely keep up.

"Gene, you should be with the team tonight," she said reluctantly, feeling that she should but hoping that he would not agree. She was desperately conscious that she needed some time alone with him to try to explain. "They want to celebrate getting you back."

"You're the reason I'm back, Bolly," he said huskily, his arm tightening around her. "I'm stayin' wi' you till you turn in. You need to rest. I've just phoned Luigi, an' e's taking the grub up to the flat for us. The team'll be partying 'alf the night. I can join 'em later on, when you've kipped down."

_You may want to go and get drunk after what I'll tell you. But, my darling, prosaic man, how will I ever get you to understand? Stravagating from twenty-six years in the future... You'll think I'm lying. You'll think I'm mad._

"'Ope you didn't mind my getting you to do the statement today?" he said softly.

"Of course not."

"Wanted you to do it before we 'ad the chance of any time alone together," he said awkwardly. "Stop anyone who tries to claim later that I influenced you."

"I understand. You may have been cleared of involvement in my disappearance, but that may not stop some Scarmanite trying it on."

"Too bloody right," he muttered under his breath. They passed through the swing doors, called their goodnights to Viv, and emerged into the late afternoon sunshine. He kept his arm close around her as they walked along, and she felt their contact giving her strength. She made the most of the moment. _After he's heard what I have to say, he might never want to look at me or touch me again. _She thanked Heaven that they were walking towards the sun. Otherwise he would surely have noticed that only he was casting a shadow.

As they entered the restaurant, Luigi came forward to greet them, tears in his eyes, and enveloped Alex in a bear hug.

"Signora Drake! Welcome home! We feared that you were gone forever!"

_Home? Which is my home now? 2008 or 1982?_

"Thank you so much, dear, dear Luigi." She clung to the portly little Italian, gulping back tears. "And thank you for tidying the flat, and dinner, and lending us the bedding. Gene has told me. I'm so sorry that you had so much trouble, with Forensics all over the place again -"

"It is all worth it to have my beautiful tenant returned, safe and well," said Luigi gallantly, patting her back in a soothing way.

"All right, Luigi, you can put this one down," Gene snapped. "She's already spoken for."

"Surely you could not consider me a rival, Signor Hunt?" said Luigi innocently as he handed Alex back to Gene. "Knowing how much this beautiful lady loves you - "

"The beautiful lady needs to rest. I'm takin' 'er up to the flat now. I may be joining the Criminally Incompetent Disasters down 'ere later."

"Of course, Signor Hunt. If you do, there will be a bottle of wine on the table for you. I have left your dinner in the flat as you requested."

"Muchas grazias, Luigi. Right now, we could both eat everything but the word Menu. Come along, Mrs Fruitcake, you're impressionable when you're tired. I ought to know. No more Italian seduction for you tonight."

It was so familar to be climbing the stairs again, with him close behind. _Like coming home. _With the blinds drawn and the lights on, the flat looked warm and welcoming. He kicked the door shut behind him, turned to her, and drew her into a deep embrace and a long, passionate kiss.

"At last," he whispered onto her lips. "Been waiting for this all day. Oh, Bolly, Bolly, love. Thought I'd never do this again."

"Gene." She could willingly have drowned in him, but the thought of what she had to say loomed over her like a granite cliff. _I can't put it off any longer._ "I have to tell you - "

"Later, love." He was gentle but firm.

"But, Gene - "

"_Later._ The food'll get cold, an' God knows we could do with it." He led her, unresisting, into the kitchen. The table was already laid, with a gleaming white cloth and a three-branched candelabrum blazing brightly. A bottle of good Chianti - not "'ouse rubbish" - and two glasses stood ready alongside a neat pile of foil containers. Luigi had done them proud.

"You sit down, an' I'll see to everything," he said briskly, opening containers and shovelling the food onto the plates. "I know those sadists in white coats 'aven't given you anything to eat in case it queered their tests, an' whoever was holdin' you won't have given you breakfast before they turned you loose, so Christ knows when you last 'ad a decent meal. An' I'm so hungry I could go out an' shoot a wild lasagne on the hills above Florence. Viv slipped me food from Luigi's while I was in the cells - shades of when we 'ad Scarman 'ere - but I didn't 'ave any appetite for it."

"You were in the cells?" said Alex, shocked.

"I was under arrest on suspicion of murder," said Gene grimly. "They'd 'ave moved me once I'd been charged. No more panini for breakfast then. There. Eat." He set a plate of sea scallops with pineapple rings in front of her and lasagne on his own place, and poured out two glasses of wine. "I know that's your favourite. Sorry I couldn't manage Dover Sole. We've still got that to come some time."

_But have we?_

He raised his glass. "To your safe return, love."

"And to your release and clearance from all suspicion."

They drank and fell to. During the meal, Gene deliberately kept the conversation light, talking about cases other than her disappearance which had arisen during her absence. When they had finished, they took the bottle and glasses and repaired to the sofa. He poured out more wine for both of them, set the bottle on the coffee table, put his arm around her, and drew her close.

"Well - "

"Oh, Gene, of all the things I'd been thinking could have happened while I was missing, I never dreamed that you might be suspected of murdering me. I can't bear to think what you must have gone through. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, I've been in the frame for murder before. Then only Sam believed I was innocent. At least this time, I 'ad the whole team behind me. Not knowing where you were was the bad bit. I don't mind telling you, I've been through 'ell this past fortnight."

"But how could anyone seriously think you'd kill _me_?"

"Ah, that was all Hattie's bright idea."

"_Hattie?_"

"DI Hathaway. Unpopularly known as Hattie Jacques. You saw 'im this morning. Long, thin streak of misery wi' a voice like Maggie Thatcher 'avin' 'er tits twisted."

"I know the one you mean."

"'E'd lick the soles of Scarman's boots when 'e'd been walking through a sewage farm if 'e thought it'd get 'im promotion. Drank DCI Litton's mother's milk. You'll 'ave 'eard about Litton from Sam?"

"Yes."

"Hattie's one of those who's dyin' to 'ave me out. Managed to persuade Foxy that they could make a case against me. Foxy's his DCI, the red-faced git who sounds like 'e's permanantly addressing the 'Ouse of Lords. 'E's another Scarman arse-licker, but 'e's not a bad bastard, strict but fair. I don't think 'e'd 'ave pursued a case against me on 'is own, but 'e let Hattie talk 'im into it. Much like I let you talk me into some of your mad schemes."

"Thanks for the compliment."

"Think nothing of it." He squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and there was a short, companionable silence.

_I must tell him. Now._

As she opened her mouth to speak, he turned to her and said very gently, "Now you'll 'ave to tell me where you've _really_ been."

_Oh, God. He knows I've been lying._

"Gene, I - "

"The truth, love." His voice was still so disconcertingly gentle, but the blue eyes seemed pierce her very soul.

"Gene, I don't know how I'll ever make you believe this, but - "

"'Ave you been in 2008?"

**TBC**


	9. He Knows

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything...**

**Spoiler warning: This chapter contains several spoilers for my previous fic, "Ashes to Ashes: Loss and Gain" (on the Collators Den, see my profile for details). If you're intending to read it but haven't got around to it yet, you may want to do so before reading this chapter. However if you decide not to, it won't affect your understanding of "Stravagation"!  
**

**Thanks, as ever, to everyone who's reading it and especially to my kind reviewers. **

**This is a VERY long chapter. But as those who have been following the story so far will know, Gene and Alex both have a lot of explaining to do...**

**Next chapter's a week off, I'm afraid, as I'm about to go away for a few days, but at least I've left you with a lot to read in the meantime. Hope you like it. Please keep the reviews coming it, it helps so much to know whether someone out there likes what I'm doing. My reviewers will tell you, I'm always VERY good about replying to reviews!**

"Oh, my _God_." She stared at him. "But how - "

"Then you 'ave?"

"Yes, but - "

"Knew it," he said, with, she could have sworn it, a sigh of relief.

"But how did you know? What do you know? How long have you - " She felt as though the world had turned on its head. He caught her close in his arms, then took her by the shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes.

"It's okay, love. I'm not angry with you. It's okay."

"But how - " she repeated helplessly.

"Long story. Are you sitting comfortably?" She nodded, unable to speak. He picked up her glass of wine and pushed it into her hand.

"Get that into you. Dutch courage. I've given you a nasty shock." She nodded again and tried to sip the wine, but her hands were shaking so much that he had to take it from her and put it on the table. He took her hands firmly in his.

"It all started in February, when you were in 'ospital after Layton shot you - when - " He hesitated.

"When I lost the baby." She knew that he could never bring himself to mention her miscarriage.

"Yeah. You remember I found 'e'd booby trapped the door to the flat. Could 'ave blown us up."

"I'm unlikely to forget it," she said, shuddering. She had had nightmares about that. Gene might so easily have been killed.

"Shaz an' I were tidying the place up after Forensics an' Bomb Disposal 'ad been through it. One thing they'd done was to dissect your Dictaphone. It would 'ave been Layton's style to put a device somewhere like that. The Price car bomb was in the cassette player. I 'adn't a clue 'ow to put it back together, so I took it to the repairers. When I collected it, I thought I'd better make sure it was working properly." He rose, picked up the Dictaphone from the cabinet, strode over to the door, took something from his coat pocket, inserted it in the Dictaphone, returned to the sofa, and sat beside Alex.

"I found some tapes in a drawer in the cabinet, so I put one in, an' got - _this!_"

His thumb pressed the Play switch with a flourish.

_"__My name is Alex Drake. I've just been shot and that bullet has sent me to 1981. I may be one second away from life. Or one second away from death. They say that as you die you see your life flash before you. All those mistakes and regrets that form us. Well bring them on. My life can flash away as much as it likes. I am not going to die. I'm going to come back to you Molly."_

His thumb pressed the Stop switch, and there was deep silence. He put the Dictaphone down.

"Oh, my _God_..." Alex breathed. "You knew. All the time, you knew."

"Not all the time. Just since February. After that, I played the whole stack of tapes. Jesus, Bolly, the things I found out! I 'ardly knew what to think. You'd come 'ere from twenty-seven years in the future. You could find a way to go back there at any time. Your daughter's waiting for you there. The Prices were your parents. That was why you tried so 'ard to make friends wi' Caroline, an' were prepared to wreck my whole operation to save them." He looked at her with overpowering wonder. "An' you - you were Alex Price - the little girl I protected that day - it was you..."

"Yes," said Alex softly. "And it was you who saved me that day, as you have always saved me. The child has grown up to become the woman who loves you."

"But, God, what a way for you to find out 'ow they died, after all this time. No wonder you were so upset. Couldn't understand that at the time. I do now."

"As a child of eight I would have been destroyed by the truth. You protected me from it until I was old enough to come to terms with it. God bless you for that, my love."

"An' that bastard Layton - what part's 'e got in all this? 'E was the one who shot you in 2008 an' sent you back to us. You came 'ere, found 'im an' 'elped me put 'im away. From what 'e said before 'e shot you, you knew 'e was involved somehow with the deaths of your parents. That was why you questioned 'im in the Scrubs. Thanks to your dad getting 'im out of jail, you couldn't stop 'im killing your parents, but you escaped. Alex Price escaped."

"Thanks to you."

"Thanks to a bloody balloon. No wonder Layton's 'ad it in for you ever since. D'you know if 'e knows that you were Alex Price?"

"In 2008, he certainly does. In the 1980s, I'm not sure. I've never been sure about Layton. He always seems to know more than he admits to."

"Yes. Thank God 'e dropped 'is allegations about me concealin' evidence in the Price case, but there are still witness statements on file."

"Well, nothing was heard about it until he shot me in 2008, so he must have kept his mouth shut until then. He's under arrest now, in 2008."

"Make sure 'e stays that way. When I think 'ow confidently I told you I'd never let 'im hurt you again, an' all the time you know what 'e's goin' to do to you in twenty-six years' time. What I wouldn't give to spare you that."

"But it turns out that he didn't wound me very badly, and if he hadn't shot me, I wouldn't have found you. I couldn't wish for that."

"Thanks, love. Nor could I." He squeezed her hand. "'E didn't intend it that way, but it might turn out to be the one good thing that piece of shit ever does in 'is misbegotten life." His voice dropped to an appalled whisper. "An' - oh God, _Sam_ - that was the biggest shock of all. 'E came from the future, just like you - an' - 'e - 'e _killed_ 'imself in your time to get back to us!" He stopped, overcome for a moment, and buried his face in his hands.

She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't had to learn that. Especially like this."

He looked up. "At least I know now why you an' 'e both talked such bollocks about things that 'aven't 'appened yet. You know - 'e _knew_ - what's going to 'appen."

"Yes. Because he'd come back to you while he was in a coma, and because I knew I was in a coma when I first arrived here, I thought you were all my imaginative constructs. That's why I acted as I did. I - I know better now. But, Gene, why didn't you tell me that you knew?"

He looked uncomfortable, like a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the biscuit barrel. "When I'd 'eard all those tapes, I felt guilty. Like I'd been eavesdropping. I decided it was your secret, for you to tell me or not, as you chose. Mind you, I can see why you didn't tell me. If you'd tried an' I 'adn't 'eard the tapes, I'd 'ave thought you were even more of a fruitcake than ever. Funny, that," he added musingly."If you'd tried to tell me to my face, I'd have thought you were mad, but listening to the tapes, I believed you without question. Don't know why."

"But you knew, and yet you asked me to marry you."

He took her hands again and gazed intently into her eyes. "When you were in 'ospital, before I'd found the tapes, I'd told you I wanted to take care of you, and you'd accepted. We'd agreed that, whatever else we'd lost, while we 'ad each other, we 'ad a way forward together. When I 'eard the tapes, it was clear that you didn't know when, or _if_, you'd be able to get 'ome. Just that you'd keep trying. But you might 'ave been stuck 'ere for years, maybe for ever. I asked you because I love you an' I wanted you to know that there's a home an' a life 'ere for you, wi' me, for as long as you want it. Always. An' you accepted."

"I will always want that, Gene," she whispered. "I thought I'd lose you once you knew."

"I 'ave to keep telling you, I'm not lost that easy. Don't you remember what I promised you, the night we got engaged? I'll always be 'ere for you, wherever, _whenever_ you need me."

"I never realised..."

"That's as near as I ever got to telling you what I knew. But I didn't say it then. You'd been through enough. I always 'oped there'd be a time. Then suddenly there wasn't any more time."

"Gene, I want you to know, I didn't deliberately go off and leave you without a word. The way it happened, I couldn't help it."

"Don't suppose you could. I know you said on one of the tapes that Sam went into a bright white light an' then found 'imself back 'ome. Did much the same 'appen to you?"

"Nearly. You'll remember that, that morning, I woke up with a bad headache. I think now that I must have been feeling the pain of the bullet wound again as my body started to wake up in 2008. You told me to stay in bed until I felt better. You left for work, and I went back to sleep. I woke up in 2008 with Molly beside me."

"Thought it must 'ave been something like that. I came back 'ere at lunchtime to see 'ow you were, an' as soon as I opened the door an' walked in, I _knew_. The place was so still. I went into the bedroom, an' the bed was empty. The duvet wasn't disturbed. The pillow was still dented where your 'ead 'ad been lying on it. You 'adn't got out of bed, you'd just...vanished from the bed. Nothing else was missing. Your bag, your keys, money, warrant card, all your clothes were 'ere. I knew then that you'd gone back 'ome to 2008. I just 'ad to pray that you'd find your kid waiting for you there an' that you were 'appy, wherever you were. All the same, I was terrified that it might not be that. Some bastard with a grudge against us might 'ave kidnapped you. You might 'ave lost your memory an' be wandering around somewhere. An' whatever it was, I 'ad to explain your disappearance somehow to everyone else. The first thing I did was to grab the tapes, seal 'em up in a parcel, an' take 'em away with me. If there was to be an investigation, the flat would be searched, an' I couldn't risk 'em being found. God knows what would've 'appened if they 'ad. Then I made a call from the phone box outside the flat. I knew I 'ad to hide the tapes somewhere safe, where they couldn't be traced back to me. I couldn't ask anyone on the team to 'elp, they'd be involved in the investigation. I know 'ardly anyone else down 'ere, 'cept Luigi, but luckily for me there's someone else who's in London right now whom I know I can trust with me life. Annie Tyler."

"Sam's widow?"

"That's 'er."

"But I thought she was with the GMP?"

"She's been seconded to the Met for a few months to work on some secret project. All very hush-hush. She'd written to tell me she was coming, knew I'd want to meet 'er for a drink and news about me godchildren."

"I didn't even know you had any godchildren. Hers and Sam's?"

"Danny Eugene an' Samantha. Great kids, both of 'em. They're with Annie's sister while she's down 'ere. I'd met 'er one evening when you went out with Shaz, but as she'd asked me not to let anyone else know she was in London until 'er project was finished, I knew nobody was likely to connect us. I phoned 'er an' asked if we could meet urgently. Then I went back to CID an' said you weren't in the flat an' you must 'ave gone AWOL. That's 'appened before, so nobody questioned it. Two hours later, I pretended to get worried an' said I was driving off to look for you, just like I did the time you gave me your left 'ook. I let Ray an' Chris think I didn't want 'em with me because if I found you we'd be 'aving a major bust up. That was when Foxy an' Hattie thought I was disposin' of your body. In fact I was meeting Annie and 'anding 'er the tapes. I didn't say anything to 'er about you, just that I might be heading for a big shitpile. I asked 'er to put the parcel in a safe deposit in 'er name, an' if anything 'appened to me, to destroy it unopened. She promised she would. I felt bad about involvin' 'er, she's 'ad enough to bear, but I didn't know where else to turn."

"Wouldn't it have been simpler just to take the tapes to the nearest incinerator?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Didn't want to do that. If you 'ad gone 'ome, then they were all I 'ad of you - the sound of your voice - couldn't do it. Besides, if you were still 'ere an' I found you, you'd 'ave missed the tapes when you got back 'ere."

She nodded, understanding that she had caught him in a "soft" moment, and squeezed his hand.

"Shaz told me that you made a phone call and went out at lunchtime today. Were you getting the tapes back from Annie, as you have them now?"

"That's right. I knew this talk was comin', an' I wanted the evidence. Anyway, on the day you vanished, after I'd seen Annie, I drove back to CID an' said I'd drawn a blank. The followin' day, when you still weren't back, I launched an investigation. The flat was searched, we went public, did press an' TV appeals - "

"I know. Ray told me."

"God knows 'ow long I'd 'ave been able to keep it up. Most of the time I knew you'd gone where I could never follow you, other times I was convinced you were being 'eld somewhere an' needed me. Don't want to think about it. Then a week ago, Hattie waded in. 'E an' Foxy went to the Super, an' they talked 'im into taking me off the case on the grounds that I was too emotionally involved 'an that might affect me judgement. Then Hattie persuaded Foxy that they should check me out, because I was the last person to see you, an' my movements 'adn't been looked into while I was in charge of the investigation. 'E was just dying to find some blood or maybe a ligature in the flat. When 'e drew a blank, 'e got the Quattro impounded, an' when Forensics found traces of your skin an' 'air from the dirty washing, I knew I was dead meat. All I could do was keep sayin' that I'd left you asleep in the flat an' hadn't seen you since. When it looked like I'd be arrested, Ray an' Chris both begged me to go on the run. After I was arrested, Viv even offered to leave the cell unlocked an' to 'ell with the consequences. Ray said 'e'd find somewhere to 'ide me. But I wasn't goin'."

"Why not? You did before."

"Yes. But then I didn't know whether I 'ad killed 'im or not. This time, I knew bloody well I was innocent. An' then, I 'ad Sam to 'ide me. If I left it to Ray, I'd be nailed in a day. Besides, I didn't want to get any of 'em into trouble, and Annie might become implicated. More to the point, what worried me most was the way Hattie an' Foxy were changin' the focus of the investigation. They were so bloody eager-beaver to do me down that they'd taken their eyes off the search for you. If I was involved somehow, even as a suspect, I might be able to get the investigation back on track."

"Yes, I heard what you were saying to them. But even if it meant you going down? A DCI, in jail - it would have been unbearable. Even for you."

"Not much else I could do. If I did a runner, a lot of people would take that as an admission of guilt, an' if I'd said "'Scuse me, but my DI came from twenty-six years in the future an' she's gone back there," I'd 'ave been in Fruitcake Farm before you could say Bolly Knickers."

"Oh, Gene, what I've done to you without even knowing. You even asked Evan to act for you."

"I didn't. The search for you 'ad been so well publicised, you became quite a media celebrity - _Disappearance of the Beautiful Inspector_ an' all that. Hattie,_ bless _'im, let the press know I could be in the frame. When White read that, 'e got in touch with me an' offered to 'elp if I needed it. 'E said 'e knew I'd never harm you. 'E'd seen us together in the 'ospital an knew what we mean to each other. So when I was arrested I named 'im as me brief. 'E's a bastard but 'e's good at 'is job. My number one priority was gettin' out again to search for you, or at least gettin' Foxy an' Hattie to do their jobs."

"Greater love hath no Gene."

"I knew I wasn't goin' to get any other offers, I'm not flavour of the month wi' briefs. I've put too many of their clients inside. 'Sides, thanks to your tapes I knew I didn't need to be jealous of 'im any longer. You didn't make friends with 'im because you were lookin' for romantic interest. For you, 'e's a link to 2008. 'E's your godfather an' Molly's godfather, an' 'e was your guardian - an' you've turned out all right. I'll never like the git, but I knew I could trust 'im."

"You were still going to be charged, though."

"Yeah, even 'e couldn't do much about the forensic evidence. 'Asn't 'alf given me an insight into life on the other side of the interview table. You only got back 'ere just in time." The blue eyes darkened with sudden fear. "'Ow _did_ you get back? I know what Sam did. You haven't - you didn't -"

"Oh, no, no, I didn't kill myself. I couldn't do that, even for you. I couldn't leave Molly."

He heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Thank God for that. But how, then?"

"I stravagated."

"Come again? I don't speak 'Industani."

"It's another long story. Still sitting comfortably?"

He nodded, poured himself some more wine, and sipped it slowly as she spoke.

"As I told you, after you left me that morning, I went to sleep and woke up in 2008. I was shocked to find that only a day and a half had passed there during all the time I'd been here."

"Flamin' Nora. 'Ow do we account for that?"

"I don't know. It just seems that time sometimes passes at a different speed here compared with 2008. In my time, Sam died less than a year ago. When he came back to you."

Gene was silent for once, absorbing that. Alex understood. He still found it so hard to talk about Sam. She continued, "I thought that meant that everything here had been a dream after all, and I was in despair."

"Even though you were back with your daughter?"

"Yes. It was as though half my life had been ripped away. The next day, the police called to take my statement about the shooting and to give me this." She held out her left hand.

"Your engagement ring?"

"It had been found on the boat with me. Thank goodness you had it engraved. It meant that I knew it was mine and not just a ring that looked like it. Proof that you, that my life here, really exist. But I didn't know how I could get back to you, and I thought my heart would break. I had no way of letting you know where I was, and I didn't know then that you knew where I came from. I didn't even know how the time was running here compared to there. If fourteen months here could pass during a day and a half in 2008, years might have passed here already. You might have given me up for dead."

"Just a sec. Your body was in a coma in 2008 while you were 'ere? But your body 'ere's real. I've got good cause to know that." Despite his bewilderment, he grinned lasciviously.

"Yes. While I'm here, my body's real there _and_ here, but I can only be awake here. It's something I'm still trying to understand myself, so I can't expect you to grasp it yet."

"Something else I want to grasp."

"Kindly restrain your natural instincts for the time being."

"Spoilsport. So, 'ow did you get back 'ere?"

"When I got the ring back, I was so distressed that they had to sedate me. While I was under, I dreamed - at least, I thought then that it was a dream - that I'd woken up in my bed here, in the middle of the day. But then I went back to sleep and woke up in the hospital. The next day, Molly saw I was still upset, and without giving any details I told her that while I'd been unconscious I'd had a long, complicated dream about being somewhere else for fourteen months. That's when she told me about stravagation. She has some books that describe it. A person in the twenty-first century receives a talisman from another place and time where their help is needed. To get there, they have to fall asleep holding the talisman in their hand. They wake up in the other place, and they have a body there too, but back home they're asleep. There's only one difference. In the world to which they stravagate, they don't have a shadow."

"Bloody 'ell."

"I was wearing the ring when I was sedated. I realised that I must have stravagated the previous night without knowing it. The ring is my talisman, sent to me because I was needed here to clear you. I was needed, and I was there."

Gene nodded. That was something that he could understand. "But does that mean Molly knows you're 'ere?"

"No, she thinks stravagation is just something in the stories she reads. She'd think I'm mad if I told her it can really be done. Nobody knows about it except me, and now you. That's why I couldn't come here again until I left hospital a few hours ago. I couldn't risk being found there in another coma."

"So while you're 'ere, you're in a coma in 2008? An' you don't 'ave a shadow?"

"I'm asleep. It's nighttime in 2008 while it's daytime here. It would only be a coma if it went on for too long. As for the shadow - "

She rose, walked over to the nearest lamp, switched it on, and stood in front of it. The light streamed in front of her. She cast no shadow. Gene stared until his eyes nearly started from his head.

"Christ on a bleedin' _bike_," he faltered. He forced himself to his feet and walked over to join her. His heavy frame cast a shadow: she cast none. He reached blindly for her hand, and together they walked back to the sofa. He sank heavily onto it, reached for his wine glass, drained the contents in one gulp, and poured more.

"Sorry," said Alex gently. "It's been a day for nasty shocks."

"You can bloody say that again," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd seen it all - but _this_..." Alex sat, her fingers entwined in his, giving him time to recover. After a short silence, he turned to her. "But you've always 'ad a shadow before. So did Sam."

"We weren't stravagating then. We were both in comas in the twenty-first century with no way of getting back. Now I'm asleep, and all I have to do to return is to fall asleep here with the ring in my hand."

"Is that why your 'air's different?"

"Yes. Now that I'm stravagating, my body here is the same as the one I left in 2008. I've never had a perm there."

"Looks nice like that."

"Just as well. I'm afraid you'll never see the curls again. Molly would have me locked up if I blossomed out into a perm in 2008."

"It'll stiffen up your kidnap story - if you'd been kept in a damp atmosphere like a boat for a fortnight, your 'air would go out of curl. Just like it did when we were in the vault at Edgehampton. Knew you weren't tellin' the truth, of course."

"You'd guessed, but how did you _know_?"

"When I asked you who shot you. You nearly said _Layton_, didn't you? You were goin' to tell us what 'appened when 'e shot you in 2008. But if you'd named 'im it would've blown your story wide open. 'E's been in jail since February. I 'ad to try an' stop you without lettin' anyone else see."

"Thank goodness you did. I felt you press my hand. It was just enough to make me stop and think."

There was a silence. He looked at her intently.

"So, what now?"

"What now?"

"You came back 'ere to let me know you're alive an' safe, an' to save me from bein' charged with murdering you. But you don't 'ave to tell me that you can't stay. If you do, Molly'll find you in a coma in a few hours' time. But if you stravvy-thingy now, I'm back to square one. So, what now?" The fear in his eyes said everything that he could not. _He's afraid that he'll lose me again. That this is goodbye._

Looking back on it later, Alex realised that she had been so desperate to return to him to explain her disappearance, that she had not thought what she intended to do in the longer term. But at that moment, she suddenly knew_ exactly _what she wanted to do.

"If you can accept it, I want to lead a double life."

''How?"

"I can't live without Molly, and I sure as hell can't live without you. I'm a creature of two worlds now, and I need to be in both. By day in 2008, I want to be Molly's mother and a psychological profiler. By day here, I want to be the woman who loves you and your DI. Whatever destiny it is that governs stravagation sent me the ring to save you, and to me that means that we're meant to be together. But I'm meant to be with Molly too. Can you accept that, Gene? Can you share me?"

A smile spread across across his face. "If it was with another bloke, I'd say no. But seeing as it's a twelve year old girl, I can say yes." He took her hands in his again. "I love you, Bolly, across the years. Wherever you are, whenever you are. Even though we were born thirty-seven years apart, an' you were really only eight when I was forty-five. You an' me, we're un bloody breakable." He looked at the floor. "That was why I 'ad those words engraved in the ring. Knew I might not 'ave you for long, but wanted you to know that, whatever 'appened, I'd always feel the same."

"And that was how I knew that I had your ring in 2008," said Alex softly. "It brought me back to you in more ways than one."

"After all that, did you really think I'd say no?"

"I thought you'd think I was offering you second best," she whispered. "I didn't know if you could take that."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Way I see it, Bolly, a bastard like me can get a chance at something precious in 'is life, an' it's up to 'im 'ow 'e uses the chance. I've been a lucky bastard. I've 'ad two, first Sam who was the best friend a DCI ever 'ad, an' now you. I don't know why the two of you came back in time to me, but I'm bloody glad you both did. I've lost poor old Sam, and I thought I'd lost you too. Now you're 'ere. I was 'oping you'd say you'd keep comin' back for a bit, just long enough to get me out of the shit, an' you're offering to return whenever you can, an' make things as much as possible like they were before. That's more than I could 'ave 'oped for. I know you can't leave Molly. Wouldn't want you even to think of it. If I rejected you now because you can't be 'ere full time, I'd be a bloody ungrateful twat. Me Mam used to say 'alf a loaf is better than no bread - not that she even got the 'alf very often. Yes, I can share you wi' Molly."

"Oh, Gene, you don't know what this means to me."

"Reckon I do. I know what it means to me. But 'ave you thought what you'll do for sleep? Look at you - you're knackered."

"That's because I've been in a hospital bed for the past fortnight. I'm meant to be resting in 2008, so nobody there will be surprised if I spend the next few days catching up on my sleep. After that I should be all right. I don't usually need very much sleep. If I can get a couple of hours' sleep in 2008 before I stravagate here, and a bit more here before I go back, I'll be able to function. Of course there will have to be sacrifices. No more late nights at Luigi's, and I'm afraid I won't be able to stay here all night unless I'm off work in 2008 and Molly is away."

"No more all-night stakeouts either."

"No. You might have to make excuses for me at work. I hope it doesn't put you in difficulties."

"Might do. But if you can manage this, so can I. We'll make it work because we both want it to. But you've got to promise to tell me if it all gets too much for you."

"I promise."

"Right!" He glanced at his watch. "It's 'eading for 6pm 'ere, if you turn in now you should be able to get in a couple of hours' kip before you 'ead back 'ome."

"Oh, no, Gene, not yet." She smiled and reached up to caress his cheek. "I've been waiting a fortnight." She heard his intake of breath.

"But you're tired."

"Not that tired. I can sleep when I stravagate back. Right now, I'd prefer it if you unleashed your natural instincts."

He grinned. "Good. So would I." He stood and picked her up in his arms. "'Ow long 'ave we got before you 'ave to go back?"

"I usually get up at 7.30, but I told Molly that I'm on strong sleeping pills and may sleep through my alarm."

"Plenty of time for us without disappointing Molly. Come on, let's get that Tate Gallery reject off you."

"Just wait till you see the underwear," she chuckled, leaning her head on his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom.

That evening, in their bed, safe in his arms, all her dreams came true.

Afterwards, he held her, her head against his chest, and she listened to his heart beating as he whispered kisses into her hair, while music and laughter floated up from the restaurant. She knew that she could willingly stay forever. _Back where I belong. He was right, all those months ago. This is where I belong._

_But I belong with Molly too. When I'm with her, I'll know that I belong there._

_I am a creature of two worlds now. The price for it is that, whichever world I am in, I will feel guilt at not being in the other one. But I must not make either of the people I love, and who love me, unhappy because of that. Or myself. Enjoy what I have, while I have it._

"I've bloody dreamt about doing this," he rumbled.

She looked up. "You too?"

"Yeah. Every night you've been away 'cept the first two. Think I was too much in shock then. 'Ave you been 'avin' dirty dreams about me, then?"

"Yes. Every night except the first and second. I was still unconscious on the first night, and the second was when I was sedated and stravagated by accident."

He looked thoughtful. "D'you suppose we've been sharing the same dreams?"

"We can't have been dreaming at the same time, because it's daytime in 1982 time when it's nighttime in 2008, so while I was there I was awake while you were asleep, and vice versa. All the same, you could be right. It all felt so real, I did wonder whether you were dreaming about me too."

"You're always rabbiting on about making connections. Looks like we might 'ave made one."

"Yes. Maybe our connection has become so deep that we communicated in our dreams across the years that separated us. I never thought you'd be the one to suggest that, you dear, logical man, you."

"I _am_ a detective," he said in a mock-injured tone. "An' after what I've seen an' heard this evening, I think me sense of logic is up for grabs. If I understand you right, you're about to nip back to 2008 any time now. _That's _not logical, but I've got to accept that it'll 'appen."

"Yes. But I don't want to go," she whispered, snuggling closer to him.

"I'll be honest, love, I don't want you to go." He stroked her hair very gently. "But we both know you've got to, an' when you're with Molly, you'll be glad you did. It's okay. I know you'll be back when you can." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Leaving him so soon after their reunion was incredibly hard. He pulled her to him and they kissed passionately. Then, with a sigh, she eased reluctantly out of his embrace, reached for the ring which she had placed on the bedside table, and held it tightly in her hand.

"Sleep well, Gene, my love. I'll be back in the morning." She blew him one last kiss and closed her eyes.

Gene lay watching her intently, fascination warring with fatigue, as her breathing became slow and even, and he knew that she was asleep. Suddenly he started violently and sat up. He was alone in the bed. Had he closed his weary eyes for a split second? Or had she simply vanished as he watched? He lay down again and reached out a shaking hand to the sheet upon which she had lain. It was still warm and the pillow was still dented where her head had been lying on it. But Alex was gone.

"Bloody 'ell fire," he muttered.

He lay there for a long time, gazing at the empty space beside him, his hand still upon the sheet. Eventually he roused himself. It was still only just gone 7.30. He knew that the team expected him downstairs. Their celebration would be incomplete without him, and after their support during the nightmare of the past fortnight, he owed it to them to join them. He rose, threw on his clothes, and headed down to the restaurant. The standing ovation he received, even greater than that accorded to Alex that afternoon, warmed him. But even Ray and Chris, not the most perceptive of men, could not help but notice that the Guv seemed to be out of it that night. He sat with them, drank Luigi's bottle of wine, and made conversation, but his heart did not seem to be in it. Everyone charitably assumed that he was still worried about Alex's health. To all inquiries after her, he truthfully replied, "She'll be okay, but she's knackered. I stayed with 'er 'till she got off to sleep. Tomorrow we'll 'ave to start findin' the bastard who snatched 'er."

After only a couple of hours, he made his excuses and left. He knew that there was no reason for him to return to the empty flat so soon, but somehow he felt that if he were there, then sooner or later she would come back. He dared not let his mind admit to the dread lurking deep within him, that she might be unable to stravagate again. So, while the celebrations downstairs continued without him, he lay awake, looking at her empty place by his side, waiting for his love to return.

**TBC**

**A/N: I appreciate that this chapter alludes to things on Alex's tapes which we don't see her recording during Series 1, but as Series 1 ends in October 1981 and Gene finds the tapes in February 1982, I think it reasonable to assume that Alex may have made more recordings during the intervening months.**


	10. The Mornings After

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. I don't.**

**Renewed thanks to all readers and reviewers! Please keep the comments coming in and I promise to respond, though I might be delayed a day or so by the long-promised delivery of a new PC. **

**This is by way of being a marking-time chapter after all the recent cliffhangers. We get up to narrative speed again in the next chapter!**

Even though she had expected it, Alex was profoundly relieved when she awakened back in 2008. _Having made two journeys to 1982 and back_, she thought as she settled back on her pillows, _I think I can consider myself a paid-up Stravagante._ She had to hope that her disappearance from 1982 had not shocked Gene too much. _He'll have to get used to it. As I will._

She got up, unlocked the door, put the ring on her bedside table, got back into bed, and slipped into a heavy sleep until her alarm clock awakened her. Molly put her head round the door, took one look, and told her to stay where she was.

"You look wrecked, Mum. Those sleeping tablets must be evil. You should stay there and have your sleep out. I'll bring you some breakfast before I go."

Alex was too tired to argue. Having only devoured scallops with pineapple rings a few hours before, she didn't really want any breakfast, but fortunately Molly limited her catering to fruit juice, cereal and coffee, which Alex found she could manage without too much difficulty. She waited until Molly had left for school, then set her alarm clock for 4.00 and sank into fathomless slumber. She got up, feeling somewhat refreshed, in time to greet Molly on her return from school and to cook her supper, but Molly, evidently still concerned by her continued exhaustion, fairly ordered her to go to bed early.

"But, Mols, I'm no use to you while I'm spending all my time in bed. It's not being fair on you."

"You're not being fair on yourself, Mum. You're trying to run before you can walk. You'll only put yourself back in hospital if you push yourself too hard."

That gave her pause. _If I go back to hospital I won't be able to stravagate, and Gene will be in trouble all over again._ She went to bed without further argument, set her alarm for two hours ahead, and snatched another couple of hours' sleep before the alarm awakened her. She took the ring in her hand and went back to sleep, thinking of Gene.

Having stravagated at 7.30pm 2008 time, she expected to arrive in 1982 around 7.30am. To her surprise, when she opened her eyes and squinted at her alarm clock, it was still only 5.30.

_Don't know how that's happened, but it could help me get more sleep when I'm stravagating. Will I have 26 hours in every day by sharing my time between 1982 and 2008? I'll have to check what the books say. _

Gene lay on his back, snoring fit to wake the dead. Knowing how exhausted he must be, she hated to disturb him, but she guessed that he would want to know as soon as she was back. She bent over him and kissed him until he stirred beneath her.

"Bols?" he murmured onto her lips. Just the way he said the one syllable of her nickname conveyed all his boundless relief at her return.

"Only me, Gene. I said I'd be back as soon as I could. Go back to sleep. We both need it."

"Somethin' else I need..." he mumbled, pulling her down beside him. She laughed softly as he fumbled with the buttons of her nightshirt. Afterwards, she settled to sleep beside him until the alarm awakened them both, to the accompaniment of a series of picturesque curses from Gene.

_When I first met him, I never would have thought that I could be so glad to hear him swear first thing in the morning._

Over breakfast, she nibbled a corner of toast while plying him with black coffee.

"You should be eating more, Bols. Want more meat on your r-r-r-rump."

"I'll hardly be able to avoid it," she sighed. "The trouble with this double life business is that people expect me to eat in both worlds. I only had fishcakes and chips with Molly about four hours ago."

"How did you find Molly?"

"Fine. She was worried that I was still so tired, so I spent most of the day catching up on my sleep, plus a couple more hours before I stravagated." She resolved not to mention the apparent time difference until she had done more research. "How much sleep did you have last night?"

"Not much," he admitted. "Couldn't get used to seeing my DI disappear like somethin' out of the Paul Daniels Show."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry, love, I'll get used to it. Anyway, we've got to 'ave some serious words before I go on duty today."

"Before _we_ go on duty," she said dangerously.

"You're still not well. Can't say 'ow glad I am you stravvyed today, but I think you should spend the rest of the day catchin' upon your sleep, either 'ere or in 2008. You said you're signed off sick in 2008, well, I'm signin' you off today."

"_No_, Gene."

"Don't you "no" me, Drake! Just because you can vanish in a puff of smoke every time you fall asleep, it doesn't give you the right to defy your superior officer - "

"Gene, listen to me, or I _will_ vanish!" His face creased with rage, but for a split second she caught the unimaginable hurt in his eyes. She reached out to him, and he angrily flicked her hand away. At that moment she hated both herself and him.

_He's been through hell this past fortnight. He admitted it last night. _

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But neither should you. I hoped you thought better of me. I'm _never_ again going to hold it over you that I can go back to my other life now."

"Sorry," he muttered sullenly, not meeting her eyes.

"We've gone through so much to get back together. We mustn't spoil it now. We can't be together without arguing. It brings out the best and the worst in us. But we must never use it to hurt each other. Not like this."

He looked up at her, and she saw how his pride warred with his longing to be reconciled with her.

"I know you want to look after me. But you aren't out of the wood yet. If you turn up at the station without me, it'll only give Hattie and Foxy an excuse to get suspicious again. Until you've closed the investigation into my disappearance, whither thou goest, I goest. I've been allowed to stravagate because I'm needed here to clear you. That's how it goes. If you like, I have to earn it. By being with you, and covering you while you run the investigation."

He nodded reluctantly, accepting that she was right but hating to lose the argument.

"Okay. Before _we_ go on duty," he said heavily.

_And that's as close as I'll get to an apology. But that's Gene. I can accept that._

"Right."

"Anyway, as I was saying, we've got to 'ave some serious words. About the investigation."

"I know I can't take any active role in it. That would look suspicious. I've just got to be with you and the team, so that people can see where I am and what I'm doing. Put me onto paperwork if you like, but I have to be seen."

"Point taken," he said, slightly mollified. "You've got to be there. But it's goin' to be tough while we're investigating your kidnap story. I'll 'ave to go through your statement wi' a fine tooth comb, an' you'll 'ave to stick to your story like an Exocet to the Belgrano. If we don't, you're right that Foxy an' Hattie'll smell a rat."

"I only hope I can remember what I said. I was making it up as I went along."

"Good job I told Shaz to make an extra carbon copy, then," he said innocently, producing a folded sheet of paper from his inside breast pocket and handing it to her. "This is your crib sheet to read, mark, learn an' inwardly digest at your leisure. Keep it 'ere, not at work."

"Gene Genius," she said admiringly.

"Famed for it, Bolly." She smiled at the use of her nickname, knowing that it was his way of forgiving her for her part in their spat. "Give it a read before we leave. I should be gettin' reports during the day, and I'll 'ave to quiz you about 'em."

"I feel awful about the amount of police time and money that's going to be wasted on this."

"Don't feel like a cheerleader about it meself, but I've 'ad years in this job to know the times when the truth won't do, an' this is one of them. The important thing is to get a good lie. We'll 'ave to do our best."

"By the way, I'm sorry I'll have to disgrace you by wearing this - what did you call it, a Tate Gallery reject? - but it's all I have until Forensics return my things."

"Same 'ere. I've been wearin' this suit an' shirt since I was arrested. I'll stick a Roman candle in someone's arse if our stuff's not back today."

"And the Quattro."

"Too bloody right. You 'ave my permission to go out an' get replacement clothin' at lunchtime. Get me a new shirt while you're about it."

She laughed, threw the other half of her toast at him, and went to get ready.

It was so blissfully familiar to be walking along to the station with him, to be sitting at her desk again beneath the checkerboard lighting. Everyone looked at her and treated her as though she were the Holy Grail. Shaz made endless cups of tea for her, and even Ray made a point of coming across to her desk and asking how she was. She hoped that this might be the beginning of a better working relationship with him. Gene, ensconced in his office, took merciless advantage of her offer to do paperwork and sent out piles of files for her attention. She got on with them, outwardly grumbling but secretly relieved not to be involved in anything taxing straight away.

Shortly before lunchtime, Gene put his head round his office door. "Drake. My office. Now."

He motioned to her to sit down, carefully closed the door, and said quietly, "Forensics and medical reports from yesterday are back."

"Oh." They couldn't be overheard with the door closed, but they would have to be careful what they said. If Ray or Chris blundered in without knocking, it could ruin everything. "Did they find anything?"

"Yes." He reached for one report and turned the pages. "Forensics are surprised that your clothes were so clean, given that you'd been missing for a fortnight. Nothin' but some pale blue woollen fibres, probably from a blanket. I know you can't remember much, but do you remember whether those were the clothes you were wearin' when you were snatched?" He bent his head close to hers, making it look as though he was showing her something in the report, and murmured, "Don't know much 'bout birds' duds, but I know nothin' of yours was missin'. You brought those with you."

"So far as I remember, yes, they were." She leaned in close and murmured back, "The blanket on my bed at home is pale blue. I lay down on it fully dressed to stravagate." He nodded.

"Some bright spark 'as suggested that whoever snatched you took 'em from you while you were bein' 'eld prisoner an' washed 'em to destroy all forensic evidence before dressin' you in 'em an' turnin' you loose. D'you think that at all likely?"

Taking her cue, she shook her head. "I really can't remember enough to say. If I was wearing anything else during that time, I don't know what it was."

He reached for the other report. "Medics are surprised that you were so clean too. They can't make 'ead nor tail of what was used to stitch your wound, they say they've never seen anythin' like it. They reckon it must 'ave been done by some gifted amateur, usin' whatever materials 'e 'ad to 'and."

Alex murmured, "In my day the stitches don't need to be removed. They just dissolve."

"Bloody 'ell. They found a single needle mark on your arm, so it looks like you were sedated some of the time. No traces of sedatives in your blood, just proprietary painkillers. Nothin' to make you lose your memory, so that must 'ave been shock from the shooting. Foxy could be right for the first time in 'is distinguished career."

Alex considered for a moment, trying to remember when rohypnol had first become available. "There are drugs around which can cause memory loss," she said cautiously, testing his reaction.

"Yeah. Roofies. I've heard of 'em." Gene's face hardened. "An' I know what they're used for."

"The correct medical term is rohypnol. Flunitrazepam. Roche make it," said Alex, warming to her theme. "It was first developed for hospitals to use for deep sedation, but unfortunately it's also used, or rather abused, to spike rape victims' drinks. It disappears from the body very quickly, so the victim has no evidence after the event."

"Well, thank Christ the medics were able to confirm that you weren't - " he struggled to say it - "assaulted."

"No." She gently laid a reassuring hand over his.

"'Course, I knew that once you were back," he muttered very low, "but while you were away - " He cleared his throat, and went on, "So you're suggesting that you might 'ave been fed roofies while you were being 'eld? An' that's why you can't remember anything, including 'aving a bath an' your clothes bein' cleaned?"

"It's known to induce anterograde amnesia in sufficient doses," said Alex carefully. Seeing his exasperated expression, she added, "Loss of memory of what happens after the event that causes amnesia. It can also cause sleepiness the day after taking it."

"Sounds convincing," said Gene thoughtfully. "Lucky you didn't 'ave enough to get 'ooked on it."

"Very lucky," said Alex, keeping her voice neutral.

"An' being fed stuff like that would fit wi' me suggestion that someone wi' medical knowledge was involved. Along with your funny stitchin'."

"Quite so."

"Drake, I think we 'ave a theory 'ere." They looked at each other with complete understanding. The moment was broken by a peal from the telephone. He wrenched it from the cradle. "HUNT! Yes - where? Right - on our way!" He hung up and turned back to Alex. "Armed jewellery blag, Leather Lane. Robbery wi' violence. Come on!"

"But it's nearly lunchtime, and I was going clothes shopping - " she wailed.

"Bugger that!" He grabbed his overcoat, flung the door open, bellowed instructions to Ray and Chris, and surged out of the office with Alex at his heels and the other two close behind. They threw themselves into the despised "rust bucket" and it took off like a guided missile.

_The A-team are back in business, _she thought contentedly. _With any luck, a new case will mean that there's less time to spare investigating my disappearance. We're back to normal._

**TBC **


	11. Double Life

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything...etc. etc. etc.**

**Yet again thanks are due to all my readers and reviewers - most particularly for this chapter, where input from reviewers on earlier chapters has enabled me to strengthen the original draft. You see, you do have an influence, so please keep the reviews coming in!**

During the months that followed, Alex's double life settled into a routine. In 2008, she spent the first few months concentrating on her writing and on spending time with Molly. Although she had not actually been away from her daughter for any length of time during her sojourn in the 1980s, her experiences there had reminded her, if she needed it, how important their relationship was. If she could have admitted it to herself, she was also feeling guilty because she could not tell Molly about her other life. If Molly sensed any change in their relationship following the shooting, or wondered why her mother always wore the diamond ring now, she was wise beyond her years and kept her own counsel.

Alex re-read the _Stravaganza_ books and scoured Google for references to them, without discovering the reason for the difference in time between 2008 and 1982. She could only attribute it to the fact that there appeared to be no clocks in Talia, the "other world" of the books, and that Stravagantes generally arrived in Talia at sunrise and left at sundown. _Perhaps the length of daylight time has something to do with it. _She had a crazy impulse to send an e-mail to the fan forum, to present her findings based on her practical experiences of stravagation and to ask for further information on the time difference. Fortunately common sense, aided by Gene's voice in her mind's ear muttering "Fruitcake Farm", prevailed.

After three months she passed the tests necessary for her to be allowed to drive again, much to her relief. She was also allowed to start work again on a part time basis. For the most part she worked from home, compiling psychological profiles on cases e-mailed or faxed to her, only visiting the office occasionally for case conferences or to collect files. The change in working methods was dictated by her superiors' reluctance to allow her back on the front line following the shooting, but where she would once have chafed bitterly against the restriction, she now welcomed it. Her work with Gene and the team, in the hilariously shambolic but wonderfully vibrant and alive conditions at Fenchurch East, made her realise how sterile and dull her once valued working life in 2008 now appeared by comparison. She sensed that this was how Sam had felt, remembering how he had recalled asking Maya whether his busy office in 2006 had any use for feelings. Political correctness seemed to stifle everything she did. She had had frequent cause to despair at Gene's lack of political correctness, but now she felt that things had gone too far the other way. _Maybe Gene's rubbed off on me too much, but that's the way I am now. _She had come to appreciate that both the eras in which she lived had their virtues and their drawbacks. Operating from home enabled her to set her own conditions for working in 2008, helped her to spend more time with Molly, and made it easier for her to keep her two working lives apart. She was in constant dread of referring to a 2008 case in 1982, or the other way around.

Five months after the shooting, Layton was tried for attempted murder, kidnapping, possession of drugs and possession of an illegal firearm. She dreaded the trial, knowing that both she and Evan would face questioning on the substance of Layton's fateful phone call. If Layton were to speak out in court about her father's suicide video, it could no longer affect her. She knew all that there was to know and had come to terms with it. But any disclosure on Layton's part could still destroy Evan, and she would be unable to keep it from Molly. _Please_, she prayed, _don't let another generation be tainted by the knowledge of what my father did. Evan and I have had enough to bear. Let Molly live free of it._

A further danger was that, if the subject of the video and its destruction came up in court, Gene's name would almost certainly be brought into it. That invoked a whole terrifying series of possibilities. Was he still alive in 2008? Would she still be stravagating twenty-six years from now to share her life between him and Molly? Would a retired police officer in his seventies be summoned from his retreat in Alicante to testify, and face disgrace when confronted with proof that he had destroyed evidence back in 1981? Would he be accompanied by her older self? Or, terrible thought, by someone else? Her head spun with thoughts of what might happen. It was not something which she could share with anyone. Evan did not know what she now knew about her parents' deaths, and she no longer had any intention of telling him. As for Gene, she dared not mention her fears to him. If she started telling him about the trial, she might have to end up telling him what had become of them both twenty-six years on, and she was not at all sure that he would want to know. She was not sure whether she wanted to. Faced with the possibility of knowing, the uncertainty was terrible, but knowledge might be worse still.

In the end, her fears proved groundless. When questioned in court about his threats to tell Alex "the truth why her parents died", Layton claimed that, as he and Evan had witnessed the explosion and seen the Prices' young daughter in a state of numbed shock, he had wrongly assumed that she had no recollection of the blast and was going to tell her about it unless Evan paid him to keep silent. Alex heaved a sigh of relief. Gene had been right. The file on the unsolved murder of the Prices was still open, Layton had past form for the use of explosives, and if he had admitted to knowing about her father's suicide video, he could have faced a murder charge. But as he was taken down to the cells to begin his sentence, he gave her a twisted, triumphant smile which froze her blood. She knew, with a sinking heart, that he was not finished with her yet. He considered that she should have died with her parents in 1981, and he had shot her in an attempt to finish the job. Once he was out of jail, he could try again. She could not consider herself, Molly or Evan truly safe while Layton lived. But at least she had the time he would spend in jail, to consider what to do once he was freed.

For her, the revelation of the trial came in the testimonies of the two police officers who had found her. She already knew that Evan had raised the alarm and that the police were working out her location from Layton's phone call, when a member of the public who had been walking her dog by the river dialled 999 to say that she had heard a gunshot from within the boat, and had seen a man with sunglasses running out and driving away in a silver-grey car. (The car had been found abandoned the following day, carrying valuable forensic evidence of Layton's presence which had helped to convict him, and was eventually returned to Alex). The nearest foot patrol had been alerted and had arrived on the scene shortly afterwards to search the boat, summon an ambulance and administer first aid.

What intrigued Alex was the fact that both officers mentioned in court that they thought that they had seen someone lurking in the shadows, but that when the boat was searched, nobody was to be found. After the trial, she visited their station to introduce herself and thank them for rescuing her.

She had rarely seen two such disparate officers teamed up for foot patrol. PC Trevor Hillers, around 50, stocky, bespectacled, grey-haired and -moustached, radiated an aura of "least imaginative cop in the solar system". WPC Sally Day, about half his age, blonde, sparky and fiercely intelligent, reminded Alex very much of Shaz. But despite their differences, it was obvious that they functioned well as a team because they knew how to play to each others' strengths.

She insisted on taking them out for a drink, and carefully turned the conversation to the events surrounding the shooting. "I've been told what you both said at the trial about seeing someone other than me on the boat. I was wondering if you could enlarge on that for me. When Layton first took me below, I thought there might be someone there, but I couldn't be certain."

PC Hillers took a long swig of beer before replying. "We both thought so at the time, but it must have been a trick of the light. You'll remember how it was down there, light streaming in behind the place where you were found lying in the blankets. When we entered the place, we were in darkness, and it took a second or two for our eyes to adjust. Then we both saw you there, and for a moment it seemed to me as though there was someone bending over you, who backed into the shadows when we came in. I thought it might be another gunman, so I called out a challenge, but there was no reply, and I got out my nightstick and went to investigate while Sal radioed for an ambulance and assessed your injuries. But there was nobody there. The end of the hull was solid, there were no exits. Especially for anything as tall as I thought I'd seen."

"Could you describe them?"

Hillers wiped his moustache. "Like I said, it was only for a moment. So tall, it must have been a man. All in white, with a tall hat, you know, like a dunce's cap."

Alex nearly dropped her glass and set it down with a shaking hand. "Like - like a clown?"

"Yeah, could well have been, though it's hard to think what a clown would be doing in a hole like that. But the strangest thing was that Sal's convinced that she saw someone different."

Alex looked at Sal, who said, "I'd just radioed for the ambulance. Trev was striding around inside the boat, calling out, and I looked up to shout to him not to do anything stupid - always playing the hero, this one - and that was when I saw her."

"_Her_?"

"A little girl. She had long, fair hair, and she was looking straight at me, almost as though she were challenging me in some way. I thought she might be trespassing, kids do sometimes get onto these unattended boats to play there and it can be dangerous. Just then the ambulance crew radioed me. When I looked up again, she'd gone, and Trev hadn't seen her. When backup arrived, they checked the whole boat, and they confirmed that nobody was there, and nobody could have got out of that area without getting past Trev."

_Oh, God. Sam's Test Card girl? But what would she be doing there?_

Alex thanked them both, went home, and thought very hard about it over a stiff drink. _Why did Trev see the Clown and Sal see the Test Card girl? I know the Test Card girl was a harbinger of death for Sam, just as the Clown was for me. Maybe they're both the same in some way, and different people see death in different ways. Did the Clown, whom I now know is my father, preside over my shooting and my rescue? Had he wanted Layton to kill me, and I only escaped because Layton was drugged up and missed? Or did he want me to go to 1981 and find out the truth - and find Gene? _

It was only after another drink that a further thought occurred to her. _Trev said that the Clown was bending over me. Was it he who left the ring beside me, to prove to me that my life in the 1980s was real? Does he still want me dead? Maybe he hoped that I'd kill myself to get back to Gene, as Sam did. Or does he at last want me to be happy, and left me the ring so that I can to stravagate to the 1980s and the man I love?_

There was one more possibility which she dared not explore, that the Clown had left her the ring in the hope or knowledge that if she returned to the 1980s, she would die there. She resolved not to think of that. In the 1980s she was with Gene, and with him she knew that she was safe. She could no longer consider giving up her life there, and all it meant to her, for such a remote chance.

In the 1980s, she settled back into her role as Gene's DI. There were difficulties, as she had known that there would be, and she was constantly grateful for his understanding and help in maintaining her double life, even when it put him in difficult situations. As he had predicted, they made it work because they both wanted it to. The team had appreciated that she might not feel up to joining the late night drinking sessions at Luigi's while she was recovering from the effects of her kidnap, but when she continued to leave at 8.30 pm on a regular basis, and Gene frequently left with her, there was widespread concern that she was "turning him soft". There was a nasty moment when Ray awakened Gene at 2.30 am with news of the arrest of a murder suspect, and Gene had to pretend that "Drake had taken a sleeping pill" and couldn't be disturbed for the next four hours. On one occasion when Alex knew that she would be involved in a late night case conference at Scotland Yard in 2008, she contrived to stravagate for five minutes and leave a note on her pillow to tell Gene that she would not be coming to work that day, leaving him to explain to the team that she had been obliged to take leave at short notice. On another occasion, when Molly was ill and Alex had to stay with her until her fever broke, the best she could do was to stravagate after an anxious Gene had left for work without her, and ring him using the phone in the flat, to explain her absence and tell him that she had to get back to Molly straight away. When she went on a camping holiday with Molly, Gene insisted that she take leave so that she was not tempted to stravagate. "You've got to concentrate on Molly while you're with 'er. If she tries to wake you up while you're 'ere, she'll go into orbit." On the credit side, when Molly was away with her father, or on school trips or sleepovers, Alex organised her 2008 work commitments so that she could stay with Gene overnight. They lived for those times.

They became adept at concealing her lack of a shadow, usually by walking and standing close together when in strong light so that Gene's bulk cast enough shade for both of them. One night at Luigi's, when Alex was careless enough to sit in front of a lamp, an extremely drunken Chris mumbled, "Ma'am, where's your shadow?", but Gene was quick to attribute it to incipient D.T.'s, and Alex changed seats before anyone else could notice.

After a few days during which she felt permanently jetlagged, she established a pattern of sleeping for a few hours before and after stravagation, to which she became so accustomed that she frequently found it impossible to sleep through the night when she was not stravagating. Gene professed himself amazed by her ability to survive on such broken sleep, but she pointed out that she had first got used to it when Molly was a baby. "Mols took ages to learn to sleep right through the night, and then in no time she was teething. I learned to manage on short bursts of sleep. It's OK, I don't need to join the fire brigade."

Their belongings were returned after two days' further delay and a number of abusive telephone calls from Gene. Much to his fury, the Quattro was not returned until another week had passed and had been so badly reassembled that he had to take it to the Audi dealership for repair and go through the extra hassle and form-filling of claiming the cost from the Met.

As soon as she had some decent clothes again, Alex gave a high priority to visiting Evan to thank him for helping Gene in his hour of need. He smiled and told her that it was his pleasure.

"I don't suppose he and I will ever like each other, Alex. We're too different, and we're on opposing sides. The man's a Neanderthal and he has a vicious temper, but I'd seen him with you in hospital, after you were shot, and I knew that he would never do anything to hurt you. I also knew that he would be your best chance of being found alive, wherever you were. I may not like him, but I trust him, and I don't trust Fox and Hathaway. They were already convinced that you were dead and had lost interest in the search for you. Hunt and I talked, and he insisted that, whatever happened to him, the most important thing was to re-focus them on the search. I've been in debt to him over what he did for my Alex, after the explosion. This was my chance to repay him. We're even now."

"How is your Alex?"

"Much better now. I can't say she's getting over the shock of her parents' death, because deep down I don't suppose she ever will. But she's learning to live with it. She was very clingy at first, but she's becoming much more independent now. She's even begged me to let her go on a school trip to Paris next month, and six months ago she wouldn't have wanted to leave me."

"Oh, yes, I remember that - that is, I remember the last time I went to Paris. It was some years ago now."

_1982, to be precise. Damn it, why do these things always happen when I talk to Evan?_

Gene continued to pursue the investigation into Alex's kidnap. It was a matter of great concern to both of them, that Fox and Hathaway continued to take a keen interest in the case, and Alex dreaded that they might find some inconsistency in her improvised story. Gene, characteristically, was all for brazening it out. Not for the first time, their differences of approach put their relationship under strain for a few days, until help arrived from an unexpected quarter. Evan, who was enthusiastically pursuing an official apology from the Met for Gene's wrongful arrest, gleefully pointed out that Hathaway had leaked to the press that Gene was likely to be guilty, prior to his arrest. He lodged an official complaint, claiming that this was a breach of procedure which could have prejudiced the outcome of the case if it had gone to trial. Whether or not the court would have regarded it as a breach, Alex was never certain, but Evan's complaint had the desired result. The Met's top brass had already been severely embarrassed by the handling of the case and were anxious to avoid any further bad publicity. Fox and Hathaway were ordered off the case, and, much to Gene's vindictive satisfaction, Hathaway received an official warning. Scarman's poodle appeared unlikely to be considered for promotion for some time to come.

As a result, Gene's position in the Met was stronger than it had been before his ordeal. Formerly an officer who was being "watched" by Scarman, he was astonished to find himself reinvented as a media hero, hailed by the press as a wholly innocent man who had been unjustly suspected by an incompetent investigative team of murdering his beloved fiancee. Against his expectations, and thanks to Evan's continued efforts, he did receive an official apology, but Alex lost patience with him when he threatened to frame it and hang it in the loo.

"Can't think of a more fitting place for it, Bols."

"Oh, no, you don't. It could be useful ammunition the next time you get into trouble. If you must frame it, hang it in the office, but _not_ next to the dartboard. You might be tempted to use it for target practice sometime."

With Fox and Hathaway out of the way, Gene was free to pursue his investigation unhindered. Four drivers of R- reg green Fiats who had been driving along Alex's imaginary route that morning came forward and were eliminated from inquiries. A sweep of garages and paint shops drew a blank, as did all reports of stolen Fiats around that time. Inquiries among doctors proved similarly unproductive, strengthening Gene's original suggestion that the kidnapper had medical knowledge. All boats along the north bank of the Thames were checked, with priority given to those owned by Layton, but Forensics found nothing which could be linked to the blue blanket fibres found on Alex's dress, and concluded that whoever had washed Alex's clothes before setting her free, had taken similar pains to remove all forensic evidence from the place where she had been held captive. Ultimately, as Gene solemnly announced to the team when wiping the whiteboard clean, the case would be kept open, but the Superintendent had ordered him not to waste police resources on pursuing it any further unless any new information came to light, due to a lack of leads and Alex's continued inability to remember anything else about her kidnap. Gene and Alex secretly sighed with relief and turned the team's attention to other, more productive cases.

For Alex, a highlight of those months was the team's rapturous reunion with Annie Tyler after her project (which turned out to be the identification and psychological profiling of an IRA cell) had finished. Once, on a quiet evening in Luigi's when the talk had turned to Manchester days, Alex had asked Chris what Annie was like, and he had said thoughtfully, "Annie always _sparkled_. It was like there was a light inside her, a sort of radiance. Especially when Sam was around."

There was little of that radiance in the gravely beautiful woman in her mid-thirties whom Alex met at the reunion party at Luigi's. Annie's light had gone out when Sam died. Gene introduced Alex with the explanation that "she worked with Sam before he joined the team," and when Annie plied her with questions, Alex was quick to explain that her contact with him had been limited to letters and reports.

Annie, perhaps sensing Alex's discomfiture, was quick to change the subject. "The Guv tells me you're engaged," she said, glancing admiringly at Alex's ring. "I'm glad. His life fell apart when Sam died and the Missus left him. He ran away from Manchester because he couldn't face his memories any longer."

"But you stayed," said Alex quietly.

"It was different for me. My whole life's still there - the kids, my dad, what I had with Sam. The Guv didn't have a life any more. He was like a lost soul. But now - " she glanced over at Gene as he sat drinking with Ray and Chris - "I've never seen him as happy as this. You and he must be good for each other."

"Gene and I are good for each other when we aren't shouting at each other," Alex laughed.

"But that's just it," Annie smiled. "We're both psychologists, and we know that he needs to be challenged. It brings out the best in him. Sam used to be the only one who was brave enough to stand up to him. And a _woman_ who's prepared to confront him - he may not know it, but that's just what he needs." She laid her hand over Alex's. "Thank you for making him happy. It would mean so much to Sam, if he knew." There was a distant look in her eyes. "Maybe he does know. So, when's the wedding?"

"We - we haven't decided yet," said Alex awkwardly. "We're living together already, have been for some time, and we regard ourselves as fully committed to each other. We're always so busy - "

"No hurry, then," said Annie easily. "You will let me know when you decide, though? The kids and I would so love to be there."

"I can't imagine Gene letting it go ahead without the three of you," said Alex. At that point, Chris, engaged in a drinking contest with Ray, managed to fall off his chair and demolish a champagne fountain, and in the resulting confusion the subject was dropped, much to Alex's relief.

It was a mystery to the team, that the Guv and the Boss were unquestionably more devoted to each other than ever since her return, and she always wore her engagement ring, yet their wedding appeared to have been delayed indefinitely, with no reasons given except pressure of work. Ray had been heard to mutter darkly about "the Guv getting cold feet", but nobody believed him.

When Alex first started stravagating, neither of them had mentioned the subject. It was enough that they were reunited, and Gene had still had his doubts as to whether her double life would work out. But when it became clear that she intended to keep it up, he had offered to release her from their engagement if at any time she felt that it tied her too much to one of her two lives. She had seen the dread in his eyes that she might accept. She absolutely rejected the idea, pointing out that she could only stravagate because she had her engagement ring. But, given their peculiar circumstances, they had agreed to put their wedding plans on indefinite hold and regard their engagement - and the all-important ring - as the symbol of their continued commitment to one another.

She had been leading her double life for eight months when, one evening in May 1983, as they were getting into bed, Gene said thoughtfully, "Bolly, this stravvy-thingy - does it work both ways?" He never had been able to get used to the word stravagation.

"What do you mean, both ways?"

"You can come 'ere from the future. Could people from 'ere travel _to_ the future?"

"I don't see why not. In Molly's books, people from the past can travel to the twenty-first century. The only criterion is that they have to have a talisman from the world they're travelling to, which has been given to them, or left for them, by someone from that world. It seems to act like a homing device." She looked at him very hard, inwardly bubbling with excitement. "By "people"" - she waggled her fingers - "do you mean you? That - that _you_ want to stravagate?"

He looked unexpectedly nervous beneath her scrutiny. "Yeah. Just for a visit, y'know, not to go there all the time."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd ever want to travel to the future. You're so much of your time. You and 2008 wouldn't know what to do with each other."

"I've been thinking. What if you get mugged in 2008 an' lose your ring? You'd never be able to get back 'ere an' I'd never know what 'appened to you. Or if you 'ave an accident or get shot again, or the time portal shifts? You're always worryin' about that. If I could stravvy, an' you 'adn't come 'ere for a few days when you 'adn't told me you wouldn't be comin', I could nip over to 2008, just to check if you're okay, an' bring you another talisman if you need it. That's if you'd be willing to let me come to 2008," he added diffidently.

"Of course. I'd love you to come," she said warmly. "It sounds like a wonderful idea, if we can get it to work. I think it's very brave of you to suggest it. I'm used to it, but for you it's a big leap into the unknown." _A leap of faith. _"I can't say how touched I am that you're prepared to do this for me."

"You do it for me, an' I never forget that, not for a moment. I might be in jail now, if it wasn't for you. But 'ow do we find out if it can work?"

"I'll bring you something from 2008 to be your talisman. Then you fall asleep holding it, and if it works, you wake up in 2008 while your body's asleep here. To get back, you fall asleep in 2008 holding the talisman and wake up here."

Gene swallowed hard. Alex had described stravagation to him before, but it sounded different when he was thinking of trying it. _Scarier_.

"An' I wouldn't 'ave a shadow. Does the talisman 'ave to be a ring?"

"No, just something small and portable which has some significance for what the Stravagante will do in the world they're visiting. I think the ring is my talisman because I had to come back to save you from being charged with my murder."

"So, what for me? 'Ow about a button off that?" He tweaked the hem of the black silk nightshirt she wore to stravagate.

"It's very small, and you could lose it so easily. Then you'd be stuck in 2008." She thought for a moment. "I have a better idea. I'll give you a key to my house. Hopefully, that means that you'll arrive there when you stravagate, but in case you don't, I'll give you directions to get there and you can let yourself in."

The blue eyes narrowed. "Then we won't know where I'm going 'til I get there?"

"No, but it'll always be the same place. Judging by the books, the place where a Stravagante arrives is connected with their talisman in some way - for instance, someone who has a book wakes up in a printing press, and someone who has a drawing goes to the artist's studio. Giving you my key is the best way I can think of ensuring that you get to my house."

"Sounds good."

"Right. I'll get a new key cut and bring it to you tomorrow morning. Then it's up to you when we try it out."

"With a sinking 'eart I suspect you 'ave a plan for that already."

"Well..." She hesitated. Truth to tell, she was wildly excited, as well as more than a little apprehensive, about the prospect of bringing Gene to 2008, and she was anxious not to deter him by appearing too eager. In daydreams she had imagined him there with her and Molly, ending the division in her life, but she had always firmly suppressed such thoughts, knowing how out of place he would be there.

"Well, what?" he growled with mock suspicion.

"The day after tomorrow in 2008 is a Friday, one of my non-working days. If you stravagate at the same time as I do, we can check that it works and where you arrive. I'll take Molly to school, then we can spend the day together in 2008. I can show you around a bit, get you to see some of the things I keep talking about, see what my life's like there, and we can stravagate back at the same time in the evening."

"Makes sense," he said with an ease that he obviously did not feel."No point in my goin' there if I don't find out 'ow to get about. I might need to know that if ever I 'ave to stravvy there to find you. I won't 'ave the Quattro there, after all. An' I'll admit, I'm curious to see what it's like there. See somethin' of what makes you tick. Just so long as I don't end up talkin' the same sort of bollocks i- _when _ - I get back 'ome."

She chose to ignore the fact that he had nearly said _if_. That would have betrayed that she knew that this was scaring him spitless. "One day in 2008 shouldn't have all that much of an adverse effect on your brain."

"I've 'ad two fruitcakes come to me from the future, you an' Sam. Must be something in the water."

"I'll have to make sure you only drink whisky while you're there, then. I'll see to it that there's a bottle in the drinks cabinet. Anyway, that's all for tomorrow. Right now, I think we have unfinished business."

She sighed with delight as he gathered her in his arms, loving the sound and feel of the Lion's growling deep in his chest as he began to kiss her.

Later, after she had gone, Gene grinned to himself. It was a measure of how much had changed that, the first time he had seen her vanish from their bed, it had startled the giblets out of him, but now he scarcely gave it a thought. It made him feel funny to think that, tomorrow night, _he_ might be travelling to the future too. He shook his head as he settled down to sleep.

_What have I just got myself into? _

-o0O0o-

Getting a key cut. Such a mundane thing, but when she thought of what it might mean, she shivered so much with excitement that the man in the shoe repairers' shop asked her if she was all right.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you very much," she said quickly as she took the key and paid for it. "I'm just thinking of the person to whom I'm giving this. My boyfriend." That provoked a chorus of wolf whistles which enabled her to get out of the shop without having to make any further explanations.

On reflection, she put the new key on her keyring and removed the existing one, which had been there ever since she moved into the house, to give to Gene. Maybe if his talisman was something which she had owned, which had been in her bag on the morning Layton's bullet sent her back to 1981, the connection would be strong enough for him to stravagate to her. She tried not to think of the possibility of him waking up in the early hours of the morning, locked in a keycutter's shop somewhere in the suburbs, with no explanation of how he came to be there.

-o0O0o-

As usual, Gene was awakened by the sound and feel of the mattress settling beneath Alex's weight as she arrived back in 1983. He leaned over to kiss her awake.

"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured as she opened her eyes. She sat up, feeling for something around her neck, and smiled in triumph.

"It came through with me. Your talisman, DCI Hunt."

She removed a long, woven nylon cord from around her neck and handed it to him. He studied it curiously. It had been made for a pass holder, and had a small loop with a snap hook to which the key was attached.

"I didn't want to give you anything that might damage your gold chain," she explained.

He turned the key over in his hand. "Looks just like an ordinary key. But then your ring looks like an ordinary ring."

"No ring you gave me could possibly be ordinary," she said, kissing him swiftly. "And this might just be an ordinary key. We won't be able to find out until tonight."

"Better not put it on 'til then, in case I stravvy by accident," he grunted, putting it on the bedside cabinet.

"Good point. I stravagated by accident the first time. I'm afraid that, tonight, you'll have to go to sleep fully dressed." He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I don't keep any men's clothes in my house. You'll have to wear everything you need to take with you. It's October in 2008, so you'll need your overcoat. Don't worry about money, a lot of today's stuff won't be legal tender in 2008. A lot of the coins and notes have changed. I'll lend you anything you need, and we can settle up later. For God's sake don't bring your gun, I'm sure your licence doesn't extend twenty-five years ahead. I don't want you to get yourself arrested for possession of an illegal firearm."

"Okay," he rumbled reluctantly. "But I'm not leaving me warrant card."

"Oh, yes, that should be all right."

"Anything else I should leave behind?"

"Yes. Your prejudices. A lot of the stuff you come out with could get you into trouble with the law in 2008."

"Bloody 'ell."

The day seemed endless to both of them. Alex secretly dreaded that some case would come up which would interfere with their plans. When she risked glancing into Gene's office, it was clear that he was as restless as she, unable to settle to any work. But after endless dart-throwing on his part and shuffling of papers on hers, they at last reached "beer o'clock" and gratefully led the mass departure for Luigi's. They ate and drank quickly and left as soon as they could, ignoring the glances that the rest of the team exchanged as they made their way upstairs.

"I suppose we should try to stravagate a little earlier than usual," said Alex nervously, closing the door behind her. "Just in case you don't arrive at my house and have to get there." She had already written out her address and telephone number, and tucked the page into an _A to Z_ which he jammed into his pocket. "Luckily for you, the street layout hasn't changed around there since the 1980s."

"You mean it 'as in other places?"

"Oh, yes. Bankside, Docklands… well, I can show you tomorrow."

"Hope so."

She undressed quickly, put on her nightshirt, and took the ring in her hand. Gene picked up the key from the bedside cabinet and gripped it tightly, winding the cord around his hand. They lay down side by side on the bed, Gene in obvious discomfort at having to do so fully dressed. "Lyin' on me bloody 'ip flask," he muttered, shifting himself into a less uncomfortable position. "I'm not leaving that behind."

"Of course not," said Alex soothingly. "I can give you a refill when you get there." She reached out to caress his cheek. "Good night, Gene, my love. See you in 2008."

"'Night, love."

Both closed their eyes, but it was a long time before either slept.

**TBC**

**A/N As the great man says, it's all about timing. Anyone who's been counting backwards while reading this chapter will have worked out that if it's October 2008 when Alex has been stravagating for eight months, she started in February. I wrote this chapter working on the assumption that the 2008 sequence in Episode 1 takes place on or around the date the episode was first transmitted (7 February). The fact that the weather looks so cloudy, and that people are wearing warm clothes (e.g. Molly's coat and woolly jumper) seems to back that up. Since I wrote this chapter but before I posted it, wombledon has come up with a very convincing argument (see "A Town Like Alex", Chapter 4) that Molly's birthday is 20 July (the date Alex arrives in 1981). But by that time I'd written too much to want to change what I'd done!**


	12. Gene Hunt, Stravagante

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. And so on, and so forth.**

**Thanks as ever to all my kind readers and reviewers. Please keep it up, I love hearing from you and I always reply!**

**With thanks to 9460549 (aka Al) and Sweeney at the Railway Arms for information on the make and model of Alex's car.**

When Alex awakened in 2008 to find herself alone in her bed, she felt a huge surge of disappointment and then anxiety.

_He didn't make it. Or maybe he has, and he's wandering around trying to find me. Maybe he's woken up in another year. When the key was made. When was that? 2001? Can't remember. Why didn't I give him the new key? At least that would have got him to the right year…_

_Pull yourself together, Drake. Probably he waited until after I'd stravagated before he could get off to sleep. It took me long enough, and he must be even more worried about this than I am._

She got up, left her bedroom door ajar so that she would hear if the phone rang, put the ring on her bedside table, and tried to get back to sleep. It was only 4.00, and this was likely to be a tiring day.

Half an hour later she was lying with her eyes shut, but wide awake, when she felt the mattress dip and the bed springs groan with an unaccustomed weight. She opened her eyes to find Gene lying beside her, snoring softly, fully dressed and most attractively tousled. She heaved a huge sigh of relief and reached over to stroke his cheek very gently. His eyes opened, astonishingly blue.

"Congratulations, DCI Hunt. You are a Stravagante. Welcome to 2008," she whispered.

"Bloody 'ell! You mean I've got 'ere?" He sat up and looked around him. "An' this is where you live?"

"Well, this is my bedroom." She got up and locked the door, then got back onto the bed and snuggled close beside him.

"If I keep doin' this, Bols, you are goin' to 'ave to get a bigger bed."

She laughed softly. Her bed was a large single, and they had to cuddle up close to both fit onto it.

"It isn't 5.00 yet. Try to get some sleep. Why don't you get some clothes off and make yourself comfortable?" She stroked one finger suggestively along the inside of his thigh.

"What if Molly comes in? Don't want to give 'er a biology lesson."

"I've locked the door, and she won't wake up until 7.30. I'm afraid that, once she is awake, you'll have to lie low in the spare bedroom until I take her to school. Then you can get yourself some breakfast if you want, or you can wait until I get back, and after that I thought I could take you out and show you around."

"Breakfast? I only 'ad pizza a couple of hours ago!"

"Now you know how I feel when people offer me food in both my lives," said Alex unsympathetically. "You'll be all right, you have a permanent weight problem as it is."

"Oi!"

He undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile beside the bed, and got under the duvet with her. She could feel how tense he was. They held each other and made love very gently, as though to affirm that they were there together, in that time. Somehow, without either of them saying anything, he understood that it was very important to her that they should be lovers in her time as well as in his. Afterwards, they slept in each others' arms until the alarm clock awakened them at 7.15.

"I set it a bit early this morning," she whispered in his ear. "You've got a quarter of an hour before I have to roust Molly out. Do you want to get dressed in a hurry and use the bathroom?"

"Ta," he muttered, grabbing his shirt. "Where is it?"

"Turn right and it's at the end of the corridor."

"Where's Molly's room?"

"Opposite this one."

"I'll wait 'til you've gone out."

"OK. Better head for the spare bedroom then. It's upstairs, the door on the right. Molly won't be going up there. Sorry, this bit will be boring for you, but there are some books in there."

"I think I'll catch up on some sleep," he grunted.

"Good idea. I'll come and let you know when we're going out."

She grabbed her dressing gown and fled for the shower while he flung on his vest, boxers, shirt and trousers, gathered up the rest of his belongings, and stole upstairs. His efforts to sleep were initially disturbed by sounds of the pandemonium associated the world over with getting a child ready to face the school day, but when Alex came into the room at 8.25 she found him slumbering peacefully and awakened him with a kiss.

"Right, I'm taking her to school now," she whispered. "Should be back in about fifty minutes. You can stay there or get up and come downstairs if you like. Make yourself at home, help yourself to breakfast if you want."

"Ta, love."

She kissed him passionately and fled. About half a minute later he heard the front door slam. He levered himself off the bed, put the cord of the key around his neck, dressed, headed for the bathroom, and then strolled downstairs. He had been told that he could make himself at home, and he was curious to know what Alex's home looked like in 2008.

The living room was dominated by a huge, wide screen, right against the wall, like a big picture frame. "Bloody 'ell, Bols," he muttered, "didn't know you ran your own private cinema." There was a machine on a stand below it, which was far too small and slim for videos, and he couldn't see any, but there were several shelves of slimline cases with the titles of films and other programmes. Spotting _They Died With Their Boots On_, he took a case from the shelf, opened it, and stared, bemused, at the small silver disc inside.

"'Ow the 'ell do they get a film onto this thing?"

Finding a remote control, a third of the size of the one in Alex's flat in 1983 and infinitely more complex, he pointed it tentatively at the screen and pressed a big red button. The screen jumped into life and he was confronted by an image of people sitting on a sofa, talking to the camera.

"Looks like that newfangled Breakfast TV must 'ave caught on then."

Finding a button marked "Channel Select", he hopped through the channels. To his astonishment, however often he pressed the button, the picture kept on changing.

"'Ow many channels do they 'ave in this day an' age?"

He saw that the slim machine had another of the little silver discs lying on top of it, and guessed that it played them. He looked at the case in his hand, and curiosity got the better of him. Prising the disc from the case, he knelt in front of the slim machine and prodded a button marked Open/Close. A small tray popped out, making him jump. He put the disc in the tray and pressed the button again. The tray shot back inside and above him the screen roared into life with the opening music of his favourite film.

"'Ell on wheels..."

He panicked slightly as he realised that he had no idea how to switch any of this stuff off, and that he might inadvertantly be damaging a lot of very valuable equipment. He managed to turn the screen off by pressing the red button again, but the slim machine refused to release the disc. He would have to own up about that to Bolly later.

Putting the remote control back where he had found it, he wandered over to Alex's desk at one end of the room. He knew that she worked from home a lot of the time. He recognised what must be a computer, although it had another of those slim screens, and a rectangular silver metal device which opened up to reveal an integral screen and keyboard. It looked as though it should be another computer, but surely it was far too small. After his experience with the disc, he had the sense not to touch either, although he was surprised to see a stack of silver discs, marked in red ink with phrases like "Hurst Profile Backup" and "Powerpoint Presentation Scotland Yard 15.9.08", piled up alongside the big computer.

_Can she play films on this thing then? What the hell's a powerpoint?_

Turning away, his attention was drawn to a small, white, rectangular object with what looked like a wheel on the front with MENU at the top and a small grey screen above it, with a wire and what appeared to be earphones protruding from the top. He could not imagine what it was for. _Some sort of bugging device?_ _Portable radio? _As he turned it over in his hands, his thumb hit a button in the middle of the wheel and the screen displayed a symbol which looked like an apple with a bite out of it, followed by a list.

"What the 'ell's a menu on this thing? Thought a menu was a card on Luigi's tables - " Experimentally, he prodded the button a few more times, bringing up more lists. Then, unexpectedly, music blasted out of the earphones. He nearly dropped it in his surprise. The item was completely solid state. There wasn't even space in it for one of those little silver discs. _Has to be a radio. But what's a radio doing with a menu?_ Once again, he had no idea how to turn it off. _Something else to own up to Bolly_. He put it down and headed for the kitchen.

_Breakfast, Hunt. Before you break everything in the house._

He found the kitchen without difficulty, and to his relief, although everything looked different and all the switches were in different places, all the appliances did what he expected of them. He fixed himself coffee and a bacon butty without setting the place on fire, and settled down to munch and read the paper. He realised that he was hungry after all.

_Let Bolly say what she likes, this stravvying gives you an appetite._

About half an hour later, he heard the front door slamming and Alex calling his name.

"In the kitchen!" he called back.

"Sorry I took longer than I said," she gasped as she breezed into the kitchen, car keys in hand. "Traffic was awful - good God, Gene, what's wrong?"

He looked up from the newspaper, his face a mask of outrage.

"Bolly, what the 'ell's 'appening to the police in this country? This paper's full of stories about the risin' crime rate, teenage thugs who get off scot free because the courts can't touch 'em, murderers who are let out to kill again - an' yet the police arrested a man who'd collared some young bastard who'd 'urt 'is disabled wife an' made 'im apologise, a market trader who was sellin' fruit an' veg in pounds an' ounces, an' a pensioner who'd been arguin' with a dustman who wouldn't empty 'is bin because it was too full! Aren't the police 'ere to protect the public any longer?"

Alex sighed as she sat down at the table, thinking of the politicisation of the police force, human rights legislation, political correctness, overcrowding of jails, health and safety, the compensation culture, all the things that she took for granted as part of the job but would be impossible to explain to a 1980s copper with 1970s attitude. "Gene, the police have changed a lot since your day."

"Too bloody right. Beats me why anyone would want to be a cop in this time. 'Ow do you manage?"

"I suppose because I'm used to it. And because the work I do, as a negotiator and psychologically profiling criminals, does help to solve a lot of crimes and put a lot of bad people away. But I'm afraid you'd find it difficult to adapt to twenty-first century policing. You're just too outspoken - "

"And me methods are too rough-an'-ready. Yeah, I know the knives are out for coppers like me in the '80s, so it's not suprising that there'd be no place for me 'ere. Didn't expect it. But, Alex, what 'appens to ordinary people when the police can't protect 'em?"

"It's not as bad as it looks, Gene." She sighed again. " I'm not saying that the police are better or worse now, just different. But the public still hate us. I'm sorry, I've depressed you. Do you want to go back home now?"

Gene pushed the newspaper away with a decisive air. "No, no, I've come for the day, let's make the most of it. Unless you want to throw me out after I've made me confession."

"What confession?" said Alex suspiciously.

"Err, I tried out some of that _Tomorrow's World_ technology in your living room, and I couldn't switch some of it off." If it was possible for Gene Hunt to look sheepish, he did then.

"Let's go and see the damage, then," said Alex resignedly. "It's not your fault, I told you to make yourself at home. But if you've touched my computer and deleted my latest report, I will _kill_ you, Hunt. I haven't backed it up yet."

"No, no, I left the computer alone," said Gene defensively as Alex led the way to the living room.

"Right, what couldn't you switch off?"

"That thing there. I put one of those silver discs in it and I couldn't get it out."

"Ah, a DVD." Alex pointed the remote at the DVD player, pressed a couple of buttons, and the tray glided out with the disc intact.

"You see, no harm done." She extracted the disc, looked at the title, and smiled.

"What's a - "

"Digital Versatile Disc," Alex explained, putting it back in the case. "We use them now instead of videos. The ones sold commercially can't be re-recorded, but you can buy blank discs to record programmes from the TV and to store data. I use them for computer backups."

"Back - "

"Taking a copy in case the computer crashes, or to send to someone."

"Oh."

"Anything else you couldn't switch off?"

"Yes, this thing 'ere." He picked it up and handed it to her.

"My iPod! Oh, hell, and the battery's nearly flat. Don't worry, I'll plug it in to recharge while we're out." She rooted in a drawer for a white plug and cable, plugged them into a socket, and pressed the base of the wheel.

"But what's it _for_?"

"It's a music and video player. Very popular gadget nowadays."

"But 'ow do you play music on it?"

"I transfer music and videos to it from my computer. There's a program called iTunes - "

"Forget I asked. But 'ow much music can a little thing like that play?"

"It holds sixty gigabytes."

"Eh?"

"Every LP and tape you, Sam and I have ever owned, and then some."

"Beats the crap out of a Walkman an' a pile of tapes, but you'd need a diploma in nuclear physics to make the bugger work. Don't tell me any more, Bols, my brain's beginning to 'urt. We must never, ever tell Chris about any of this stuff. It would do what's left of 'is mind in."

She laughed. "Come on, then, let's go out. The fresh air will do what's left of your brain good. Luckily it isn't a sunny day, so we needn't worry about your lack of a shadow."

"Shit, I'd forgotten that problem."

As they moved out into the hallway, something in Alex's pocket played a tune. She took out a small device and looked at it.

"Excuse me, Gene, I'll have to take this. Be getting your coat."

While he was retrieving his coat from the bedroom, he heard Alex talking to someone. As he came back down the stairs, she put the device in her pocket and smiled up at him.

"Sorry, Gene, that was my Superintendent. Luckily he doesn't want me to do anything until Monday."

"What was that playing, your poddy thing?"

"No, my mobile."

"Mobile what? One of those things you 'ang over babies' cots?" he said, bewildered.

"My mobile phone." She took it from her pocket and showed it to him. "They work using radio masts."

"Ah, like a police radio or a walkie-talkie back 'ome. Or one of them poncey car phones."

"Something like that. In fact, Gene, just in case you do ever have to come back here in an emergency, I'll tell you now that I leave a spare mobile in the drawer of the hall table, here. If ever you have to operate solo in 2008, you might find it useful."

"Ta muchly, but 'ow the 'ell would I know 'ow to make it work?"

"It's the Nokia 3310, one of the simplest models on the market. I'll leave instructions with it. Molly won't think that odd, whenever I get a new mobile she has to teach me how to use it."

"Jus' like Chris, the younger they are, the easier they find it to understand all this techy stuff."

Standing on her doorstep, he gazed interestedly at her car.

"Lexus IS250. Like it?" said Alex proudly.

"Well, it's certainly different to what I'm used to," Gene breathed, striding around it. "Got to 'ave some compensations for livin' in 2008. What's the spec?"

Alex had known that he would ask that question, and she had done her homework. "Maximum speed 143 mph, accelerates 0-62 mph in 8.1 seconds, and it does 28.8 miles to the gallon. Eighteen-inch alloy wheels, vehicle stability control, brake assist system, electronic brakeforce distribution, traction control system, anti-lock braking system, airbags - "

"What's that?"

"Safety measure. They inflate if the car crashes, help cushion the impact. Anti-theft system with immobiliser and double door lock, six-CD autochanger, cruise control, climate control..."

"Don't pretend to understand a lot o'that. Looks nice, but I'll remain true to me Quattro."

"Step aboard - oh, be careful, I keep the siren-light stowed in the passenger footwell. Molly usually sits there. Dump it in the back seat."

Gene complied and stretched out his long legs in comfort as Alex got in.

"Sorry, I don't have third party insurance, so I'll have to drive, and I'm afraid you must wear the seatbelt. It's the law now."

"Bloody 'ell. So, where are we goin'?"

"To some of our old haunts."

**TBC**


	13. Encounters in 2008

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. But I wouldn't mind borrowing Gene for a weekend.**

**Thanks very much to everyone who is still reading this, and especially to all those who have given me such enthusiastic feedback for Chapter 12. I have wondered how many people foresaw that, once Alex had got used to stravagation, Gene would want a slice of the action!**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter, with more adventures in 2008. Please continue to leave reviews, a few words from you keep me going!**

As they drove along, Gene glanced anxiously at a contraption at the side of the road.

"Don't look now, Bolly, but are we bein' watched?"

Alex barely gave it a glance. "That's just a speed camera. They're everywhere nowadays. They record car number plates and how fast they're going, and fines are automatically issued to drivers who are over the speed limit. One more reason for me not to let you drive. I don't want to pick up a fine."

"But that's like spyin'!"

"A lot of people think so, but it's meant to make the roads safer. That's only the start of it. There are surveillance cameras everywhere nowadays. This is the most surveyed nation in the world."

"But why?"

"They help solve crimes. "

Gene grunted and reached in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter.

"That's another thing I should warn you about," Alex added. "It's against the law to smoke in all indoor public spaces and workplaces, and on public transport."

"_What?_"

"It's a health and safety measure. Sorry. You can still smoke in my car, or walking along the road."

"Ta _very_ much." Gene lit up and blew a plume of smoke out of the window with a defiant air. "'Ang on, Bols, what's that big red-an'-white C on the road for?"

"That indicates the border of the Congestion Charge zone."

"Explicate."

"It was Ken Livingstone's idea, to reduce traffic congestion and pollution in Central London. Motorists have to pay a daily charge to drive into town."

"WHAT!" Gene looked outraged again. "What gave that little twonk the right to cheese money off honest motorists?"

"He was elected Mayor of London for eight years, though a lot of honest motorists share your opinion of him."

"What, that jumped-up little ponce? Further proof that this city's goin' to the dogs."

"But he lost this year's election to the Tory candidate."

"Not sure that's any better - what the fuck's _that_?"

They were cut up by a monstrous hinged vehicle, the like of which he had never seen before, and Alex slammed on the brakes, uttering a string of curses which paid tribute to the amount of time she had spent in his company. Gene stared at it like Dr Who's latest companion transfixed by their first sight of a Dalek.

"Bloody bendy bus," Alex fulminated. "One of Uncle Ken's least popular innovations. The biggest hazards on London's roads. Nearly everyone hates them. I understand they're very popular on the Continent, but in London they're a menace."

"You mean people 'ave to ride in those 'inged biscuit boxes on wheels? What 'appened to all the good old Routemasters? An' 'ow can the driver see what the back end's doin'?"

"The Routemasters have nearly all been sold off. As to your second question, I've no idea, but a cycling friend of mine nearly got killed when the back end of a bendy wagged its tail at him," said Alex viciously.

"No wonder you like spendin' time in the 1980s," said Gene sagely.

She drove him around Docklands, taking him first to the north bank of Blackwall Reach, opposite the Millennium Dome.

"See that boat there? Layton took me there and shot me on a morning last February. I woke up there on 20 July 1981 dressed as a prostitute, in the middle of Markham's party."

"The day you came to us. To me."

"Yes."

"What's that thing on the opposite bank? Looks like a sponge cake wi' forks stuck in it."

"That's the Dome. It was built to celebrate the Millennium in 2000. Now it's used for concerts and exhibitions."

She had already tried to find the site of _The Finish_ on the Isle of Dogs, but was forced to admit to Gene that the layout had changed so much that she couldn't be sure where it had been. He said little, but she could tell that even he was impressed by the changes in the area since his time. He stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing up at the mighty tower of Canary Wharf, and nodded his respect. At the same time, she felt the ache in him for the loss of the places he knew.

"It's not just here that's changed," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "Manchester too. It's all being regenerated. You wouldn't know it now."

"Wouldn't want to go back there," he said, very low, his voice thick with emotion. "Not in either time. Want to remember it as it was. The city I loved. Still love."

"Come on, I've got another place to show you."

Turning towards central London, she drove to the river bank by Tower Bridge.

"Remember when we nailed Layton, Markham and their gang along here? I'll never forget the sight of the three of you roaring towards us in the _Prince Charlie._"

"Pardonez bloody moi but I saved your life," Gene grinned.

"So you did. That was the first - no, the second - of many times. The first was when you stopped me from being run over."

She drove on to the Tate Modern and stopped outside.

"Bankside Power Station?" said Gene, frowning. "What's 'appened to it?"

"It's an art gallery now. The Tate Modern. Full of all the sort of art you think is a waste of time."

"Piles o' bricks?"

"That sort of thing, yes."

"Forgive me if I pass up on the unique opportunity to go inside. But why 'ave you brought me 'ere?"

"Come with me."

She led him out to the Queen's Walk, and they leaned against the rail, gazing at the river.

"This is where I was summoned to negotiate with Arthur Layton. This place, this spot. He had taken a busker hostage and asked for me. He recognised me as the Prices' daughter. While I was trying to establish a dialogue with him, Molly ran to me. He grabbed her and took her down there." She pointed down to the beach. "Then he let her go, fired a shot, and escaped in the confusion. When I got in my car I found him hidden there. He forced me to drive to the boat. So this is where it all started. Us."

He nodded his understanding. "An' what's that?"

"The Millennium Bridge." They walked slowly towards it. "That day, I got Evan to take Molly home. I saw them walking off together along the bridge. When I was in 1981, I feared that that would be the last I'd ever see of her." Her eyes filled with tears. "I've hated this place ever since. Coming here with you helps me to - to exorcise it. I'll be able to face it again now." She reached for his hand, their fingers entwined, and she felt his touch giving her strength.

"Glad if I could 'elp, love." He could not say it, even to her, but there was a place on the banks of the River Irwell which he had never been able to face. Not since Sam's car sank there. Hastily pushing the thought away, he glanced along the bridge and tensed.

"Talk of the bleedin' devil - "

"Alex!" A distant figure waved to them.

"Evan!" She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and waved back. "Oh, Gene, what are we going to do? He's the one person I know, who knew you in the 1980s. But I can't ignore him."

"'Course you can't. Just brazen it out, an' remember the Gene Genie is an accomplished liar," Gene murmured, winking at her as Evan approached.

"Good to see you, Alex! Why are you here? Is there a new exhibition at the Tate?"

"No, I'm just out with an old friend and colleague who's in London for the day. Evan, please meet DCI Hunt of the Greater Manchester Police. I was, er, seconded to his team for a while some time ago. Gene, this is my godfather and former guardian, Evan White."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr White," said Gene, poker faced.

Evan, who had not until then taken any notice of Alex's companion, turned to him with an outstretched hand and executed a perfect double take.

"I beg your pardon, sir - haven't we met before?"

"I don't see 'ow, sir," said Gene innocently. "I don't come 'ere very often."

"Not recently - over twenty years ago - I knew a DCI in the Met who was very like you. He even had the same name. It's extraordinary."

"That would be me uncle you knew then. 'E served many years in Manchester before transferrin' to the Met, an' I'm told there's a family resemblance. My family's very proud of me Uncle Gene. I was even named after 'im."

"Well, well - I'm afraid I must be getting along. I have a client to meet in twenty minutes. Give Molly my love, Alex. Good to meet you, Mr Hunt."

He hurried away with the bewildered air of a man who had just been confronted by his past. Gene and Alex waited until he had gone, then caught each others' eyes and heaved simultaneous sighs of relief. Gene made a melodramatic gesture of mopping his brow.

"Poor Evan! That was close," Alex gasped.

"Too close," Gene growled. "All we need now is for bloody Chris or Shaz to 'eave into view. They could still be with the Met. Ray's probably retired by now. An' me older self should be sizzlin' in Alicante."

"If we do meet anyone else who knew you in the '80s, spin them the same line you just gave Evan. Very good for the spur of the moment. Good but shameless."

"Trust the Gene Genie."

They stopped for a late lunch in a small, crowded pub in the City. Alex insisted on paying, pointing out that it would be far simpler for him to return the favour by buying her dinner one evening at Luigi's than to pay for a 2008 pub meal which, at 1983 prices, would cost him an arm and a leg. She had to wait some time at the bar before she could order, and when she returned to their table with their drinks, Gene was in an altercation with an excited young woman.

"Gerroff! Daft cow!"

The girl backed away disappointedly, giving Alex a very hard look.

"Trouble?" said Alex, putting the glasses on the table.

"Sorry about that, Bols." Gene looked both embarrassed and exasperated. "Clear case of mistaken identity. Dozy tart wanted me autograph. Couldn't convince 'er me name isn't Glenister."

"Oh." Suddenly Alex found the table top very interesting.

"When I told 'er the name's Hunt, she said, "Oh, are you filming? How exciting!" What the 'ell was she talking about - Bolly? Bolly, look at me when I'm talkin' to you! _Is there anything you 'aven't been telling me_?"

"Maybe. But I hadn't thought about it myself until this moment."

"_What?_"

"I'll tell you later. Now is neither the time nor the place."

Fortunately, at that moment the barmaid arrived with their food, but Alex couldn't help noticing that the girl gave them both a surprised glance, which Alex returned with interest, before hurrying away.

After a pleasant meal, they were strolling down Moorgate, back to the car, when Gene screeched to a halt outside the HMV shop. His face went ashen.

"Me Cortina! What's me bloody Cortina doin' in that poster?"

The window display was dominated by an eye-catching poster proclaiming "Best of British TV on DVD from £5".

"Maybe it isn't yours," said Alex soothingly, trying to draw him away.

"Think I don't know me own car? Look, that's the number plate, KJM 212K. An' who are those blokes draped over it? That one's wearin' Sam's leather jacket, and the other one - that looks like me old camel coat - _Bolly_ - "

"Yes, Gene, I'll have to explain," she sighed. "But not here, or you'll collect a crowd. Come back to the car."

She steered a very agitated DCI to her car. Once safely inside, he folded his arms and fixed her with his most powerful glare.

"DI Drake, either you tell me what's goin' on _now_ or I fall asleep an' stravvy back right away!"

"I'm so sorry, Gene. I never thought about this until the girl approached you in the pub. I'd better start from the beginning."

"Better be good," he snarled.

"As you know, Sam came back to the present day for a time and then - died - to get back to you. While he was here, he made a number of very detailed reports and tapes about his experiences with you and the others in the 1970s. That was how I became acquainted with his case. After his death, someone - _not_ me - passed a copy of his reports and transcripts of the tapes to a couple of scriptwriters who turned them into a very successful TV series called _Life on Mars_. After the David Bowie song from 1973. The poster you saw was advertising the DVDs for the series."

"Bloody 'ell. Then the blokes on the poster - "

"Are the actors who play you and Sam. They're both very good, actually."

"An' I suppose the one playin' me is this Glenister?"

"That's right. He "does" you very well, though you're even better looking, _of course_. You should be flattered. The series has turned you into a popular hero. Your best lines are quoted everywhere. Lots of people say that there should be more coppers like you. Fans are even suggesting that you should be Prime Minster or Home Secretary."

"But 'ang on, they think I'm a fictional character!"

"It shows how real you are to them. How real the actor's made you for them. And Philip Glenister's a very popular actor, who's widely regarded as a sex symbol. So are you," she added persuasively.

"So I should bloody well 'ope!"

"But that's not quite all."

"Oh?"

"There were two series of _Life on Mars_. They took the story up to the point when Sam went back to you. Then they started a new show. It's called _Ashes to Ashes_." She stared at the dashboard for some time. "It's about us."

"Us?"

"How I was shot by Layton and came to you. Some of the cases we've worked on. How my parents died. It's not my fault, Gene! I didn't tell anyone!"

"Jesus, wish you'd told me all this before I came 'ere. I'd 'ave worn me sunglasses to avoid unwelcome attentions."

"I'm so sorry, Gene. I never thought of it. To me, the series are about characters invented by the scriptwriters. You're _you._ You're real."

"But what about you? Don't you get mistaken for the actress who plays you?"

"It hasn't happened yet. You know how different I look then, curls, all that makeup, jeans, batwing top, the white leather jacket. So far nobody's made the connection."

"The actress can't be as pretty as you, then," said Gene with unexpected gallantry.

"She's_ very _pretty, and a good actress too. I'm not going to let you see her, or you might trade me in for the younger model. They're shooting a second series at the moment. That's why that girl was talking about filming."

"Sufferin' Scarman, of all the things I thought might 'appen to me when I stravvyed, I never thought I'd get mistaken for some bloody actor. In the meantime, what's next on today's schedule?"

Alex looked at her watch. "I'm afraid I'll have to abandon you for an hour or two while I collect Molly from school. I thought we could all have supper together before you and I stravagate back tonight. Luckily she won't connect you to the TV series. I've never let her watch because of all the bad language."

Gene looked at her very seriously. "It means a lot to you, doesn't it? Me meeting Molly?"

"Yes," Alex admitted. "Yes, it does. You and she are the two people I love most in the world, and I - I want you to meet each other, see how you get on - "

"I'll be 'appy to meet 'er, but I've never been any good with kids."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I remember you being very good with a little girl called Alex Price."

They gazed fondly at one another.

"Right!" Gene clapped his hands, breaking the spell. "You fire up the Lexus and get to Molly."

"I'd better drive you home first."

"No, don't worry about that. I'd like to look around a bit for meself. Lend me a few quid till tomorrow?"

"Of course." She reached into her purse and handed him three £10 notes. "Will that do?"

"Fine, fine. Thanks. I'll give you the change."

"Will you be able to find your way back to my house?"

"Oh, yeah, I've got me bearings now. I've got your note an' the _A to Z._"

"Just remember to save enough money for your tube or bus fare. Buses in the centre of town don't take cash fares, and you haven't got an Oystercard, so if you want a bus, you'll have to have the right coins for the ticket machine."

"What's an Oy - no, don't tell me. I'm not riskin' me neck in one of them bendy things. I'll take the Tube. They _do_ take cash?"

"Oh, yes. Supper is served at 5.30, so don't be late. Remember to ring the doorbell, as Molly's not meant to know that you have a key. And _please_ remember to mind the worst excesses of your language. I don't want her picking up any unsavoury new expressions from you."

"Bleedin' 'ell, outnumbered by women. What a fate for a proud DCI. See you later, love."

He kissed her, got out of the car, and strode away, turning back to wave as she drove off.

_I wonder whether leaving Gene on the loose in 2008 London is the wisest thing I've ever done._

**TBC**

**A/N: I actually spotted the HMV poster in Glasgow (not London) in May (not October) 2008, and it didn't include the Cortina's number plate, but a girl must be allowed a little poetic licence!**


	14. Gene and Molly

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos, Monastic and Mary Hoffman own everything. I just borrow.**

**Once again, thank you to everyone who's stuck with this saga, and especially to all my reviewers.**

Molly Drake was a perceptive child. She knew that, when her mother talked about a man in a certain way, it was because she hoped that Molly would like him. It was at times like this that Molly wondered if she, too, was destined to become a psychologist. After the divorce her mother had had a succession of unsuitable boyfriends, but since the shooting she had lived like a nun. Molly had wondered about that, and had even discussed it with Evan, who pointed out that the doctors had warned that there might be personality changes caused by trauma from the shooting. It turned out to be the only change, but one that Molly had welcomed. She had eventually become reconciled to the fact that her parents would not get back together, but it saddened her that, while her father had found a new steady girlfriend whom he seemed likely to marry, her mother had appeared unable to find anyone to whom she could make a lasting commitment. So, on the drive home from school, she picked up on the deceptive casualness in her mother's voice when she said, "By the way, Mols, we've got a guest for supper tonight. I hope you don't mind."

_Ah. This one's _really_ important._

"Of course I don't, Mum. Who is it?" She nearly said "Who is he?", but was tactful enough not to let her mother realise that she knew that she was talking about a man.

"A former colleague. I was seconded to his team some years ago. I ran into him today. He's in town from Manchester for some police conference."

_She's being evasive. What's all this? _ "I didn't know you ever worked in Manchester."

"I didn't. He was in the Met then."

"What's his name?"

"DCI Gene Hunt."

"Isn't that the name of the man that Sam Taylor worked for?"

"Tyler. Yes." Alex made a great show of concentrating on the road. _Damn. I forgot that Molly had read Sam's file. _

"But that was in 1973, and I thought that it was all in his head."

"Maybe he'd read some reports from that time and retained some of the details without realising it. It turns out that there _was_ a Gene Hunt with the GMP in 1973. He was the uncle of the Gene I worked with."

"The one who's coming to supper."

"That's right."

"Is he nice?"

"I think so. I hope you will too. Of course a lot of criminals don't." _And after this, if you aren't on your best behaviour, Hunt, I shall personally dismember you._

"Better that than the criminals liking him and we don't," said Molly cheekily.

There was a short silence while Alex negotiated a roundabout. When they were cruising along the road again, Molly said suddenly, "Was he the one who gave you the diamond ring?"

Alex nearly hit a parked car. "Sorry. What makes you think that?"

"I'm sorry, Mum, I should have told you. When you were in hospital you kept the ring under your pillow, and one night it fell out of the bed. I picked it up to put back under your pillow, and I - I remembered that the police said that it had your name in it, so I looked, and I saw what was there. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have. It was private."

Alex's head was spinning so much that she had to slow the car down. _It isn't just Gene who kept things from me. Molly too. Who else?_ "No, that's all right, darling. I don't mind." _Much._ "Yes, it was. We worked together, and we got on really well, but he wanted to go home and I wanted to stay here. We're still friends." _I'll have to bring Gene up to speed on all this. It's getting complicated._

"I see. I'm sorry, Mum." _But you didn't forget him, and you kept his ring. Then when it was returned to you after the shooting, you started thinking about him again, and now he's come back into your life and you want me to like him._

_Right, Mr Hunt, let's see whether you're good enough for my Mum._

To her surprise, she had a gut instinct that this one might be.

-oO0Oo-

It was 5.30 precisely. Molly was laying the table and Alex was battling with two seething saucepans when the doorbell rang.

"Damn! That must be Gene," Alex called from the kitchen. "Can you get it, Mols? If I leave this, it'll boil over."

"Right, Mum." _You arranged this so that I 'd get the door, didn't you?_

She ran to the door, flung it open, and found herself looking a very long way up at a tall, broad, blue-eyed, golden-haired man in a black coat, who seemed to fill the doorframe. He had a beautiful smile, which she sensed did not come to his face very often, and was looking straight ahead of him, holding out a bunch of flowers which he clutched like a mallet. Finding himself gazing at empty space, he slowly looked down as Molly looked up, until their eyes met.

"Ah. Good evenin', little lady." He had a broad Northern accent, which she liked. She remembered her mother saying that he came from Manchester. "I believe I am addressin' the lovely Miss Molly Drake?"

"That's right." She smiled back. "And you must be Mr Hunt?"

"That's right too, but I 'ope you'll call me Gene." She could tell that this was a concession which he did not make very often. "Could you please inform the beautiful lady of the 'ouse - the _other_ beautiful lady of the 'ouse - that I'm 'ere?"

"Of course. Please come in, Gene. There's a hook here, would you like to hang up your coat?"

"Thanks."

The hallway was of reasonable size, but as soon as he stepped through the door it seemed too small, not so much because of his physical bulk as because of his overwhelming personality. Molly felt as though she were being pressed back against the wall, yet she felt a sense of reassurance and safety emanating from him too. Had she but known it, that was what the eight-year-old Alex Price had also sensed in him when they first met.

Molly closed the door, gestured Gene towards the coat rack, and called out, "Mum! Gene's here!"

Alex emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands. "Ah, Gene, good to see you. Glad you could find your way here." She just managed to stop herself saying _back here_. "How has your day been?"

"Fine, Bolly, fine. Most interesting an' informative." He kissed her cheek, careful to make it an affectionate salutation rather than anything more intimate, and presented her with the flowers and a bottle of red wine which he produced, like a conjurer, from his coat pocket.

"Oh, Gene! You shouldn't have."

"Me Mam brought me up well, Bolly. Always bring something with you when you're invited to dinner. An' this is for you, Miss Molly." He presented a small bunch of violets to her with a bow, eliciting a hushed "Oh! Thank you, Gene!" She was sure that being presented with flowers was seriously uncool, but she appreciated the gesture. Most of her mother's boyfriends had ignored her or talked down to her. This was a grown-up compliment.

Alex broke the spell. "Mols, when you've finished laying the table, can you put the flowers in water, please? Gene, the kitchen's just behind me here, help yourself to a couple of wine glasses and the corkscrew. It's in the second drawer on the right. Supper will be ready in five minutes."

With Molly safely occupied bashing flower stems in the living room, Alex sidled up to Gene as he hunted for a corkscrew in the kitchen and murmured in his ear, "She knows you gave me the ring. She's seen the engraving. I said that it didn't go any further because you wanted to go home and I wanted to stay here. Oh, and she's read Sam's file and knows there was a Gene Hunt in 1973, so you're your own nephew again." He nodded his understanding.

"'Ow am I doin' so far?"

"Well, I think. Thank you for giving her the flowers."

"Strewth, if you knew 'ow I racked me brains to think what to get 'er. You 'aven't told me anything about 'er tastes, an' I didn't want either of you thinkin' I was tryin' to buy 'er affections. I saw 'em when I was gettin' your flowers an' just added 'em to the order. 'Ope I did the right thing."

"I think the violets hit the right note. But you're in the wrong drawer for the corkscrew, it's the next one along."

A few minutes later they were all tucking into spaghetti napolitana, with Gene's wine for himself and Alex and cranberry juice for Molly. He was wondering frantically what he was going to say - _hell, I'm useless at dealing with kids _- but Molly neatly started the conversation by saying, "Tell me, Gene, why do you call my Mum Bolly?"

He managed to avoid catching Alex's eye. "Ah, that dates right back to when we first started to work together."

"When was that?"

"Oh, a good few years ago now, love. Before your time. The first time I took your Mum to dinner, I discovered that Bollinger's 'er favourite champagne, an' the nickname stuck." He sensed Alex's approval of his dilution of the truth.

"And what sort of work did you do together?"

"She was me DI. Not the specialist stuff she does now, all this profilin' an' suchlike. Out on the front line wi' me, collarin' the criminal scum of London an' makin' the world a safer place for the law-abidin' majority."

"Did you catch a lot of criminals?"

"Oh, yes. My gut instincts an' your mum's psychiatry - "

"Psychology," said Alex automatically.

"Yeah, psychology, we made a grand team. Didn't always see eye to eye, our workin' methods were too different, but we didn't let that get in the way of nailin' villains."

"Did you have lots of adventures?"

"We hardly ever seemed to stop having them," said Alex fondly.

"Please, will you tell me about some of them?"

Gene quickly riffled through his memories to extract a case which could safely be recounted to a child. Quickly discarding the Neary, Hollis and Burns cases along the way, he looked up at Alex with a smile. "Bolly, remember when we went after the Cales?"

She returned the smile. "I'll never forget it."

"What happened then?" said Molly curiously.

Gene poured himself another glass of wine and more juice for Molly. "Well, Molly, it all started when we got a call about a robbery at a post office..."

With plenty of interruptions and excited questions from Molly, the story, as told jointly by Gene and Alex - with tactful editing to remove all references to Gene's conviction at that time that he was getting old - took them through the rest of the first course, dessert and coffee, and by the time Gene had described how he shot out a plate glass window to rescue Alex from the Cales' cold store, he was quite definitely confirmed as one of Molly's heroes. When she could tear her eyes from him, she saw the glow in her mother's eyes and the flush on her cheeks as she relived times past.

"It was so cold in that cold store, Mols. Like being shut in a giant fridge only much, much colder. I thought I'd had it. I was already semi-conscious from having been hit on the head, and I was starting to hallucinate. I kept seeing - white shapes - coming out of the ice to get me. Then suddenly I saw a dark shape among them, coming closer, bending over me. I couldn't see him clearly, there was too much vapour from the ice, but I knew that it was Gene. I lost consciousness then, I think out of sheer relief. "

"They'd trussed 'er up like a Christmas turkey wi' rope an' bar towels," said Gene grimly. "I carried 'er out into the restaurant and found she'd stopped breathin'. I 'ad to do CPR - "

"What's that?" said Molly. Gene looked at Alex, who said helpfully, "Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It's an emergency procedure for victims of cardiac arrest."

"Yeah. Police officers are trained in it, but I 'adn't done it in years. Thank God she came round quickly."

"And I opened my eyes, looked up at you, and knew I was safe," said Alex softly, gazing into his eyes across the table. Molly, sitting between them, glanced shrewdly from one to the other. Gene cleared his throat.

"Errrm, an' then the ambulance arrived. Joan 'ad summoned it for Chaz, but I got 'em to look at your Mum first. Turned out to be nothing that paracetemol an' a dressing wouldn't put right. So we arrested the Cales an' got 'em carted off to jail - Chaz went straight into the prison 'ospital - an' I took your Mum back to the station. Ray an' Chris 'ad got it right for once. The Cales 'ad been usin' the place for money laundering."

"What's that?" said Molly.

"Concealin' the source of the money. They'd bought the restaurant wi' dirty money an' were runnin' it at a loss. They were goin' to sell it, an' the money from the sale would've been clean. Chaz blew their cover when 'e couldn't resist robbin' one more post office. Mind you, that dozy twonk Chris thought that to launder money you 'ad to wash it."

Molly pealed with laughter. "But what happened about the hitman?"

"We got uniform to lie in wait for 'im at the restaurant, but 'e never showed up. 'E must 'ave seen all the activity an' scarpered. Chaz an' Joan weren't so lucky. They both went down for a long stretch."

"And we found Mr Chattergee's statue of Krishna, and Ray and Chris returned it to him," Alex added.

"Yeah, I'd forgotten that."

"So what happened then?" said Molly to Gene.

"Well, that was that case wrapped up. Your Mum 'ad the rest of the day off to get over 'er 'eadache, and she was back in the office the next day, right as rain. An' tomorrow was another day, wi' more adventures to have."

"How exciting," Molly breathed. "Mum, why don't you do anything like this now?"

"Because I'm a specialist now. Not all DIs do things like psychological profiling and hostage negotiation. The Met needs my skills. It's another way of putting baddies away. Not that I didn't enjoy working at the coal face."

"_Coal face?_ Are you callin' Fenchurch East a coal face? I'll 'ave you know, DI Drake - "

"Temper, temper, DCI Hunt."

Molly laughed again, recognising the fire in the sparring between them. _No doubt about it, this one's good for Mum, and she's good for him, too. _"So, how long are you here in London, Gene?"

"Just for today, Petal. I was at a meeting to bring us Northern coppers right bang up to date. Tomorrow I'll be back to my 'ome patch to nail more villains."

Molly's face fell. "Oh, what a pity you can't stay longer."

"Thanks, Molly. Nice of you to say so. But I can't stay off me beat too long. Scum never sleep."

On an ordinary Friday evening, Molly would have scuttled off to do her homework so as to leave the weekend clear, but tonight nothing would separate her from her new god. After the meal, all three repaired to the living room, where Gene and Alex indulged in further trips down Memory Lane for Molly's benefit while she listened, enthralled. Eventually, seeing that she was far too excited to go to bed while he was there, Gene tactfully announced that he would have to leave as he had an early start in the morning. Once again, he won Molly's heart by formally shaking her hand at parting, as though she were grown-up.

"Goodbye, Gene. It's so nice to have met you. Please tell me that you'll come back soon."

"Depends where the job takes me, sweetheart, but if ever I'm back 'ere I'll be sure to look you an' your Mum up. 'Bye, little lady. Any problems, you just call the Gene Genie."

"I will!"

Kissing Alex goodbye, he murmured in her ear, "Pub. Back in an hour." She pressed his hand in understanding. Gene's nose would be able to smell out the nearest pub serving a decent single malt. In an hour's time, Molly should be safely in bed and he could let himself back in with the key.

When the door had closed behind him, Molly turned to her mother, her arms folded. "I'm disappointed in you, Mum!"

"Oh, but why?"

"He's wonderful, and you've let him go - _twice!_ You were engaged to him and you broke it off, and now you had the chance to get him back and you didn't take it!"

_Boy, he really _has_ made an impression._

"Well, if I'd married him and not your Dad, you wouldn't have happened, so I hope you're pleased about that - "

"Yes, of course, but - "

" - and this time, he was only here for the day. It wasn't a case of letting him go, he has a home and a job to go back to. But I'm glad to have seen him again, and that you've met him and like him."

"Oh, yes, I do. He's good for you, Mum. If you could have seen yourself when we were having supper, you were so happy. I've never seen you look like that with anyone else, not even Dad."

"I'm that happy with you, Mols."

"You really love him, don't you?"

Alex nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do. Very much."

"Because he loves you, too," Molly said conspiritorially as Alex edged her towards the stairs.

"I know."

"You do? But you let him leave without telling him you love him, and you don't know when he'll come back!" Molly looked as outraged as Gene had, when he was reading the paper that morning.

Alex smiled a secretive smile. "He knows."

"Do you really think so?" said Molly anxiously.

"I know so."

Molly folded her arms again. "Promise me one thing, Mum."

"What's that?"

"That you'll keep in touch with him."

"Yes, darling. I can certainly promise you that."

It was actually about seventy minutes before Gene cautiously let himself back into the house. Alex secretly wondered whether the delay was to ensure that he would not run into Molly, or because the local single malt was better than expected. She beckoned him into the living room and shut the door, and he settled thankfully onto the sofa.

"It's OK, Molly's safely in bed."

"Phew, me facial muscles ache wi' all that unaccustomed smilin'. She's worth it, though. Nice kid, your Molly. Glad I've met 'er. Should we consider stravvying back soon?"

"Give it a few minutes to make sure she's properly asleep. If she hears a second pair of feet coming up the stairs, she'll think you've returned for a night of passion, and we'd have a _lot_ of explaining to do. She's already heartbroken at your departure and made me promise to keep in touch with you."

"Well, I 'ave returned for a night of passion, but it 'ad better be after we've stravvyed. Glad I've 'ad such a good effect on 'er, I never know where I am wi' kids."

"Oh, yes, you do." She stroked his arm. "You're irresistible to them, so long as you don't threaten to stamp on their toys, or hide out in ice cream vans and glare at them."

"Blimey, Sam did note down all me bad 'abits."

"So, where did you go when you left me this afternoon? I had my misgivings about leaving you on your own in London, but you seem to have managed all right."

He looked away from her. "Somewhere I knew you wouldn't take me. Fenchurch East."

She laid a hand on his arm. "You're braver than I am. I haven't had the courage to go back there since I returned to 2008. What's it like now?"

"Outside looks much the same. Bit dingier, that's all. Suppose I could 'ave gone inside, flashed me warrant card and asked to look at the place, but I didn't want to. I know it'll all be changed now. I strolled down to the corner. Luigi's is still there, did you know?"

"No, I didn't. How lovely!"

"Must be under new management now. I didn't go in. Knew everything would be different - decor, menu, prices. Our flat'll 'ave changed, too. The 'ouse rubbish is probably still the same, though."

"What did you do then?"

"I 'ad to make meself scarce. I spotted a film unit outside the station, an' a Quattro just like mine, even the same number plate. I realised they must be shooting that TV show about us, an' I legged it before anyone could shove me in front of a camera. That actor bloke wouldn't 'ave liked that. Nor would I. After that I went somewhere to get your wine an' flowers. Spent most of the time wonderin' what to get for Molly. Then I got the Tube an' came 'ere." He reached into his pocket. "'Ere's your change"

"Thanks." Alex looked at her watch. "We'd better be getting upstairs. It's getting on for 8.00 am in 1983, and we'll be due at the station in about an hour."

"Bloody 'ell, Bols, I never 'ave understood 'ow you manage with so little sleep when you stravvy."

"I usually allow myself more than this, but today has been pretty exceptional. For both of us."

He kissed her. "You can say that again."

They stole cautiously upstairs and into her room. Neither spoke. Gene lay down on the bed fully dressed and took the key in his hand. Alex undressed quickly, put on her nightshirt, and took the ring in her hand. He was already asleep by the time she lay down beside him. She made herself stay awake until he had disappeared, then gratefully closed her eyes.

-oO0Oo-

Gene woke up and took in the familiar surroundings of the flat above Luigi's. Feeling uncomfortable lying there fully dressed, he rolled over, sat on the edge of the bed, and stood up.

He stood there for a long time, looking at the key in his hand. Although Alex had not said anything on the subject, he knew she hoped that, once he had visited 2008, he would want to return.

He would stay here, in his own time, in the world he knew. The world that Bolly had shown him frightened him. A world where criminals had more rights than the innocent. Where coppers were not allowed to protect the public. Where he would not be able to make a difference. A world, moreover, where he was in perpetual danger of being mistaken for some bloody actor. He hoped that she would understand.

But he would keep the key and guard it as his most precious possession. If ever she could not stravagate, he would be able to reach her, and if Bolly and Molly ever needed his help, he would be there for them.

He put the cord around his neck and tucked the key inside his shirt as, behind him, the sound of the mattress settling announced Alex's arrival. He smiled to himself.

The key was his _second_ most precious possession...

He turned and bent over her to kiss her awake.

**THE END - OR THE BEGINNING?**

**So there it is! Now that each has the power to travel to the other's time, all sorts of adventures are possible. But will Alex be able to keep up her double life? Will Gene be tempted to visit 2008 again? What if Bolly and Molly do need his help? How long before Molly becomes suspicious? What will happen when Layton gets out of jail? SHOULD I CONSIDER WRITING A SEQUEL? Of course with Series 2 imminent, it would have to be strictly AU. I have an embryonic idea, but do you think it's worth pursuing? Please let me know!**


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